


Jagged Little Pill

by SerenityJayne



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bad Guy Likes Good Girl, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Good Girl Doesn't Want to Like Bad Boy, Innuendo, Love/Hate, Point of View, Romance, Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:12:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityJayne/pseuds/SerenityJayne
Summary: Gracyn Lence has only met Leonard Snart four times in the last two years, but unlike the third time, maybe the fourth is the charm.





	1. The First Time Pt. I

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching DC's Legends of Tomorrow and naturally the bad guy speaks to me. Like I need another project. Hopefully this one will be shorter, but definitely juicy.

_“Your hair is down, Doc.”_

_That’s how it all started, this thing between Leonard Snart and I. If you had asked me an hour ago what I felt about him, I would have said indifference at best and distrust at worst; but here we were, Leonard having been involved in who knows what this time. This was the the fourth time we had met in the last two years, every six months, like clockwork it seemed he appeared, always needing something of me, usually to clean he or his lunatic partner up and send him on his way but this time; this time was different._

_He was different._  

 

 

* * *

 

The first time I ever met Leonard Snart, I was at work.  He called me doc, because I _am_ a doctor, but not a people doctor, a veterinarian.  I work at a 24 hour emergency clinic and have for the last five years.  The hours are crap, but the pay is decent and the job is rewarding when people bring their best friends of the furred persuasion to me in their most desperate hours.  I couldn’t say I had much of a life outside of work, but after working so hard through college to earn my DVM and find a job that was fulfilling and paid the bills, it felt like a small price to pay, at least for now.  That night, it was well after midnight, I had a shift that ended in a few hours and for once it was quiet. All of the emergencies we’d had were mitigated earlier in the evening and our few patients were sleeping comfortably as their conditions would allow. I was in the back kennel room, checking vitals and bandages.  I was also taking the time to clean up some of the empty kennels as well. Normally the techs and assistants were responsible for that, but given it was slow, I’d taken the opportunity to let them all go get something to eat and I would hold down the fort. Aside from the receptionist at the front desk waiting to take calls, I was the only other employee here at the moment.  I didn’t mind the quiet, the occasional beep from equipment or a grumble from a sick animal reminding me it was still business as usual, but even though I found it tedious at my own house, I consider it therapeutic to clean while at work when time allowed.

 

I was neck deep in scrubbing a kennel when I heard a thud.  I stopped what I was doing, listening intently when I heard it again.  I backed myself out of the kennel I was cleaning and looked around the room, thinking maybe one of the patients had woken up and was struggling. A few of the admitted had heavy casts that were sometimes unwieldy and often scary when brand new.  After checking on everyone and seeing they were all still resting comfortably, I heard the noise again. I wasn’t usually the type to get spooked easily, but the quiet that had been calming earlier now gave me an eerie sense. I started moving toward the sound which was coming from one of the back storage rooms.  I grabbed a mop handle resting beside the bucket I had been using earlier and I gently pushed the door open. I was hoping my imagination had gotten the better of me and it was just one of my coworkers returning from their break and rummaging through the storage room for something. As I opened the door, I heard voices, quiet but harried and none of them sounded familiar to me.  The clinic wasn’t in a part of town that was known for crime, but we’d had a few break ins since I had worked here, usually thugs looking for an easy high on whatever medications we used here. Which was stupid, since quite a lot of what we had would do them more harm than whatever they thought was good. I knew I should probably just save myself the possibility of running headfirst into trouble and call the police, but then again, it was after midnight and apparently that meant I was an idiot.  

 

I pushed my way into the room and nearly tripped over a form sitting beside it.  It moved, letting out an irritated grunt, I lifted my makeshift mop weapon and brought it down hard, the grunt turning into an angry holler.

 

“Hey, watch it!” A very gruff voice growled at me from the dark.  I lifted the mop again, just as another shadow crossed behind me, slamming the storage room door shut and flicking on the lights.  I was momentarily blinded but was smart enough to move back before I could be grabbed. As my eyes adjusted to the light I saw two men now blocking the door I had entered through.  A large, bald man was sitting on the floor, holding his head where I had apparently made contact with my mop handle, the other was still standing, he was tall but not nearly as bulky as his friend, he had hair, but was buzzed close to his scalp.  They both had strange looking weapons, but at the moment, only one of them was pointing theirs at me, the one still standing, the business end of his weapon glowing blue.

 

“Careful, sweetheart.  You’re not dressed for cold weather.” He told me, speaking to me in an almost deadpan tone, which immediately irritated me.  Despite recognizing what he was pointing at me was no ordinary gun, I found myself stupidly opening my mouth anyway.

 

“It’s July.” I shot off, still holding my mop handle ahead of as though a few feet of wood was going to protect me from something that was buzzing menacingly the same distance from me.  I immediately regretted saying anything at all but was momentarily surprised when a smile twitched at the man’s lips.

 

“Ever heard of Christmas in July?” He responded, as though the two of us had anything resembling camaraderie between us.

 

“What are you doing back here?  This area is for authorized personnel.” I said, stating the obvious and knowing that two people carrying weapons like theirs most likely didn’t care too much about something as trivial as that.  The bald man on the floor stood up and groaned, still rubbing his head from the whack I had given him.

 

“We authorized ourselves.” He said bluntly, the gravel in his voice raking across my ear drums.  He looked at the mop handle in my hand, apparently putting two and two together now that he had taken the opportunity to focus on this situation, his eyes growing angry.  He looked to his companion and in an equally angry tone threw out some serious sounding threats.

 

“She hit me with a mop, boss.  I have a sudden itch to set something on fire.” He growled, his fingers twitching along the trigger guard of the weapon strapped to his thigh, my own eyes leaping to the other man in the room.  In the short span of time I suspected I had left, I studied him. As short as his hair was, I could still tell it had once been dark but now had a sheen of gray to it, that and the laugh lines around his eyes telling me he was probably in his early forties, though it wasn’t because he was showing his age badly.  He was pale, like he didn’t spend much time in the sun, likely because he spent most of it in a secret lair given the life of crime he undoubtedly led. He wore dark clothes and a jacket, despite the fact, as I had pointed out to him earlier, it was July. He wore a pair of goggles around his neck, their purpose unclear, but I was sure I would find out soon.  He was regarding me carefully as well, his eyes sweeping over me as though he was trying to determine how much of a threat I really was, which was funny, given the fact literally all I had to defend myself was a stick. This much was obvious as he moved towards me, kind of like a big cat stalks its prey.

 

“Can it, Mick-- She might be useful to us.”  He reached towards me, my first instinct to slap his hand away ignored as he pulled the collar of my scrubs out toward him and tilted his head to look at it.  It took me a second to realize he was reading what was stitched there. Most vets elected to wear a white coat with their information stitched on it. It was a right of passage we had all earned after mucking through (literally and figuratively) years of education and clinicals.  As I worked in an emergency capacity, more times than not, we had animals come to us that were severely sick or very injured and that didn’t tend to wear well on a white background. My usual attire for the last five years were scrubs of varying colors and patterns that included my name and my title.  

 

“Gracyn Lence, DVM.  Looks like we caught one of the big fish.” He said, Mick still glaring at me, though his eyes seemed to be going glassy in comparison to the first time he had tried to bore holes in my face with such a look, and he didn’t appear to be able to remain steady on his feet.  Reminding myself he was still technically touching me and I didn’t particularly care for such a man doing so, I let the end of my ineffective, yet strangely confidence building mop handle land on his chest as a reminder I would happily use it like I had on his partner.

 

“Your friend doesn’t look so good.” I said, hoping to at least draw his attention off of me, not sure I cared if the bulky baldy ended up hurting.  He let go of my scrub top, using a finger to push the mop handle off his chest, his eyes still very much on me as he asked after his friend.

 

“Mick-- You still standing?” He asked, his bald compatriot beginning to weave where he stood.

 

“Just get the stuff, I’ll be fine.” He muttered, though seconds after he said it, he fell against the wall, eyes closing against his will as he slid back down to the floor.  As he did, I could see a large stain of blood on his army green shirt, the hole in the fabric accompanying it giving me a good idea he and his friend’s illicit activities had been in full swing long before they’d gotten to the clinic.  My eyes snapped back to the dark haired man ahead of me who gave me a snarky smile.

 

“Well, doc-- Looks like you have a patient.”


	2. The First Time Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time continues.

> **Gracyn**

 

“You realize this is a veterinary office, right?  I'm an _animal_ doctor, not a human doctor.” I told him, that smug look on his face never breaking.  Everything about him oozed confidence, like he was a man never without a plan and nothing I could say would throw him off.

 

“Well, Mick has never been very human in the first place--” He leaned forward so he was inches from my ear. “Best get started.” He whispered, a shudder shooting down my spine.  I didn’t want to admit I was terrified, I had been the second I tried to knock his partner out and gotten locked in here. I knew they had managed to get in through one of the back doors to the clinic, slipping into the storage room via the second entrance, but assessing my options, I was fairly certain I wouldn’t make it to either door in time before he shot me with that glowing blue gun of his.  He must have read my mind, because he turned and aimed at the door I had come through, a bright blue light left it and within seconds the door and its knob were completely covered in what looked like ice. That told me basically everything I had assumed was correct; no way was I leaving this room without getting myself maimed or killed. I certainly wasn’t going to ask about the science behind his gun.

 

I sighed and dropped the mop handle to floor with a clatter, walking slowly to the, hopefully, unconscious jerk on the floor.  After poking him a few times to see if he was awake, I pulled up the hem of his shirt to look at his wound, still checking every once in awhile to see if his eyes were open.

 

“If you think he’ll bite, don’t worry-- he’s had… _Most_ of his shots.” The wiry man deadpanning behind me.  I looked back up at him, fairly unimpressed with his humor at this point, though I knew I still had to try to keep my own sarcastic responses to myself.

 

“He’s been shot.” I told him, his passive face never changing.

 

“Very astute of you doctor… No wonder you work with dogs.” He said, as though my chosen profession was an insult to me. He and people like him were precisely the reason I chose to practice medicine on animals and not people. The clientele (aside from their owners) tended not to be ungrateful assholes about everything. I examined the wound and was thrilled, if you could call being forced into treating half of a team that was currently threatening me into helping them, to find the wound was a through and through. If this bald fiend had actually been a dog, I might have ordered X-rays and a battery of tests to be sure there wasn’t anything that was more life threatening to leave in than dig around for. Since I certainly wasn’t intentionally going to extend their stay, I went with my gut that it had gone through and decided my next step was to make sure he was stable, control the bleeding, stitch him up and get them the hell out of my clinic.

 

And also not die.

 

“Help me get him on the table.” I said with the same authority I used during emergencies with surgical staff. Making myself clear so there would be no misunderstanding of what I needed to be efficient at my work. I looked up at the dark haired man to find him regarding me seriously with icy blue eyes. I could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he determined if I was being sincere or hoping to trick him into something. After a millisecond and me gesturing with my head at his friend, he popped his weapon back into the holster at his thigh and squatted down beside me, turning the bald man, Mick, as he has called him so he could grip him under his armpits, leaving me with his legs. The second we lifted him off the ground, I was grateful he had taken the heavier end of his companion. I had had to lift and turn animals upwards of 200lbs in this clinic, sometimes on my own if we were short staffed or I had no choice. I had grown proud of the bit of muscle and strong back I had gained from that aspect of my job, but in this instance, it felt like lifting a recently deceased cow roped to a boulder, tied to a Volkswagen.  What muscle I had been proud to call muscle was certainly not going to be enough.

 

I could tell despite his wiry strength, Mick’s friend felt similarly, his face going red as he hoisted him up as high as he could, me trying my best to help get him onto the table we used for preparing surgical trays and other things to have handy when dealing with blood and guts. Thankfully that meant gloves and the assortment of things I’d need. Going into surgical mode, I started pulling open drawers where we kept sterilized equipment and boxes of surgical gloves, freezing in place (thankfully not literally) as I heard a click and the sound of something charging. I turned to find the ice-man had pulled that glowing gun out of its holster again and had it pointed at me once more.

 

“Easy, doc. Don’t get any ideas.” He said warningly, I pulled out the package of shears, staple guns and box of gloves we had on hand and showed them to him.

 

“I can’t do anything helpful without these.” I said simply, the dark eyed man peering over at my stash.   He nodded an ok and I returned back to the table. There wasn’t a sink back here as the surgical suite was three doors down with far more sterile conditions than this. It went against everything I had been taught about keeping a sterile field, but I wasn’t about to ask for a hall pass to wash my hands.  Maybe an errant germ would teach these two a lesson about getting themselves shot. I shoved my hands into my surgical gloves before I pulled open the sterile bag containing the shears. I used them to cut away the bloody t-shirt covering the bald one’s torso. I had to contain a small gasp when I saw almost the entirety of his upper body, from his shoulders down to his wrists were covered in burn scars. I had seen some bad burns come in to the clinic, many of them had been spilled hot oil or water, contact burns, the occasional case of intentional injury. But none had ever looked like this. This man was lucky to be alive based off the state of his skin, the scars angry and twisting in the pattern of flames; he had clearly been just as idiotic about treatment for that too or perhaps his skin would have had a chance to heal better and he wouldn’t have risked infection.

 

I don’t know why it bothered me that he’d been stupid about treating his wounds, especially when his friend was threatening me to save his life; I suppose maybe it was just the professional in me that took it personally.  It didn’t really matter, I needed to focus. I had managed to scrounge up some Chlorhexidine to clean the wound and begin my work.

 

“So what’s the good doctor’s diagnosis-- He going to make it?” He asked me, I couldn’t tell from his even tone if he was asking out of actual concern or that it would be inconvenient to have to deal with a dead partner otherwise. I hadn’t thought about what his reaction would be if for some reason I wasn’t able to help his friend.  Having pressed my stethoscope to the chest of the unconscious man and my fingers against the inside of one of his thick wrists, his heartbeat and pulse seemed strong enough, but there was enough blood loss to be concerning and I definitely didn’t have the kind of blood he’d need if he required a transfusion. Which only encouraged me to move faster.  

 

“He’s stable for now, at least I think he is, since he’s, you know, not a dog.” I said, my eyes immediately screwing shut as soon as I said it.  Sarcasm was like a reflex with me, especially when I was nervous. Times I was nervous usually included disappointing my parents or having to give a speech, not because I had some futuristic freeze gun pointed at my head, but that obviously didn’t stop me anyway.  Strangely, he didn’t seem offended, maybe because he knew he had the upper hand and me being a smartass didn’t change that. He smirked at me from across the table as I worked and gave a small nod in agreement.

 

“But he’s _loyal_ like one.” He answered.  I risked looking him in the eye and I realized his eyes were on me, not just to look at me, piercing into me like he was trying figure me out.  I saw an intelligence that I hadn’t quite expected given their current predicament, but one look into those freezing blue eyes assured me of the two men I was dealing with, _he_ was no idiot.  I also saw something else, a cool calculating something, almost shark-like in its simplicity but frightening nonetheless.  As soon as I met that gaze, I dipped my head back down immediately to focus on my work. I didn’t want to give him a reason to keep looking at me like that and I definitely didn’t want screw up what I was doing, so I refocused and warned myself to keep my mouth shut.

 

* * *

 

 

**Leonard**

 

She was afraid of me. Good, she should be afraid of me.  It would keep her alive, not that she had a reason to think she was going to die. Yet. I had been impressed with her since she walked in the door, armed with little more than a cleaning implement and still managing to land one on Mick, which was difficult to do even when he was injured. She also had a sarcastic wit, which I found rather sensational, since she seemed to know she was in peril but couldn’t help herself throwing a barb or five my way.  She was doing a good job of trying to hide her nervousness with it. I watched her work on Mick and it seemed she had things fairly well under control. Mick’s color was good and his breathing, from what I could see was even. The security guard who had shot Mick was lucky my partner hadn’t had his Heat Gun in hand when he was shot, or he probably would have ended up a pile of ash on the floor, no matter what kind of deal I had made with The Flash.

 

Mick usually walked these things off but this time, I guess he was just having an off day. When he’d started getting sloppy on the exit from our latest heist, I knew his wound had managed something that didn’t usually faze him. Since a real hospital was out of the question and I was pretty sure we didn’t have the supplies to treat him at our hideout, I threw out the plan and found a new one as we passed by an animal hospital. Unfortunately it was the emergency type, which meant it was open and full of people, but there wasn’t another one within a few miles of our current position and Mick was looking rough.  At least the parking lot had been mostly empty, which made for less looky-loos. We’d gotten in through the back and everything seemed all quiet until Mick had lost his cool looking for painkillers, which he enjoyed even when he didn’t need them, so that wasn’t surprising. The ruckus he had made had obviously drawn the attention of the good doctor and left me little choice but to trap her back here with us.

 

I had been pleasantly surprised when I flicked the lights on to find a pretty young thing standing, blinking before me.  No more than in her early thirties, maybe 5’8 to my 6’1; she had dark red hair, tied up behind her head and pushed out of her face with one of those stretchy headbands.  She had pale, creamy skin that seemed to be appropriate given the color of her hair, a lot of which was covered with purple scrubs with tiny paw prints all over them. Her eyes, though adjusting to the light and wide with shock and fear, were a clear blue-green and definitely pleasant to look at.

 

What can I say? I might not take the art I steal for my own enjoyment, but I can appreciate its beauty when it’s in front of me. The same could be said of vet clinic employees.  Within a few seconds of our meeting her, Mick, who never appreciated anything but booze and dollars to buy the booze, started threatening to set her on fire and I was forced to take action instead of sitting back to admire the view. It ended up working out for us anyway, as the employee who had come to see what was going on back here was one of the doctors of this clinic, which was good news for Mick. She might not have been a human doctor, but she undoubtedly still had more skills than either of us had in treating wounds _and_ where the painkillers were hiding so Mick would shut up about it.  I also learned her name.

 

Gracyn.

 

It had a nice ring to it.

 

After I had made it clear what we needed of her, I blocked at least one exit to deter her trying to escape and call for help until she was done; working together, we got Mick up on the table and she got busy. She started cleaning him up with a blue liquid that looked a lot like Windex but apparently did more than leave a streak free shine.  It was interesting to me to watch her fingers deftly but gently feel around his wound looking for whatever a doctor might find concerning before she closed him up. I assumed internal bleeding, but I was a thief, not a doctor so my guess wasn’t of much value in this instance.

 

“So what’s the good doctor’s diagnosis-- He going to make it?” I asked her, both to know and also get an idea of when I could get Mick out of here. The longer we stayed, the more chance we’d be discovered and the police would be on us. Not that I was afraid of prison. They were never able to hold me long, but the idea of being behind bars wasn’t part of the plan for me today and I’d rather avoid it all together.

 

“He’s stable for now, at least I think he is, since he’s, you know, not a dog.” She answered me, her eyes shutting seconds after she said which told me she hadn’t really intended to say it out loud to the man holding a gun on her. If she had known me, she would have known it amused me, I wasn’t easily offended by sarcasm as I often used it myself.  

 

“But he’s _loyal_ like one.” I told her.  It was mostly true, Mick was a hot head and he bungled my plans occasionally, but even though I remained cautious of him, I never believed he was anything but my partner.  And if I was being honest, it would put a damper on my plans if he died right now. I found myself studying her again as she worked, I didn’t typically bother myself with checking out the hostages when we had them, but it wasn’t like there was much else going on at the moment and Mick wasn’t a looker, so that left one option.  It certainly wasn’t the worst thing in the world, she wasn’t a Victoria’s Secret supermodel, but she was plenty attractive and she knew her way around blood and guts. Who would have thought that would be normal for a veterinarian, but here she was anyway. She looked up from Mick’s wound long enough to see I was staring at her and those clear blue-green eyes met mine.  It gave me a surprising rush, one I usually found during a heist, not in the back storage room of an animal clinic with my partner being tended to by a vet. She only met my eyes for a moment, but it was long enough for me to see what was behind them; aside from her nerves, she was curious, about me (and probably Mick), enough to look her captor in the eye. Other men in my position would have taken it as a challenge and considered her stupid for doing it, but I found it admirable and certainly more intelligent than anyone in the circles I was a part of, as few of those as there were.  The moment didn’t last long though, her head dropping back to her work almost instantly, but it was long enough for me.

 

The thrill of the chase.  It’s the reason I participated in illicit activities.  That look definitely sparked something, but it was a distraction and I don’t do distractions, especially when I was still on the job.  Time to get serious.

 

“I _hate_ to be a bother, doc but how much longer is this going to take?” I asked, I knew my tone was annoyed, but it wasn’t with her and I further knew it wouldn’t translate that way.  Her shoulders tightened at my question, no doubt worried I would be killing her shortly if her answer wasn’t acceptable. Lucky for her I was a man of my word and killing hadn’t been on the agenda for the evening regardless of Mick’s demise.  Even if it were, I had a sneaking suspicion I wouldn’t have been keen on ‘damaging the goods’ anyway.

 

“I’ve stopped the bleeding, but I still need to close his wounds.” She said throwing a bloody gauze pad to the end of the table by Mick’s feet.  “The only closing tools I have access to right now are staples, so it’s going to be a little while longer.” She said in the professional tone she must use with her patient’s owners.  Straight and to the point, I couldn’t help but like it. I found myself walking around the table, Cold Gun at my side, just threatening enough to keep her in line, but relaxed enough she would know I wasn’t planning on using it just now.  Coming up behind her, I rested a hand on either side of her where she was leaned against the table, the Cold Gun giving a metallic thud against the stainless steel as I did. My height gave me an advantage in being able to lean down just enough for my mouth to be near her ear.

 

“How _much_ longer?” I asked softly, feeling her back stiffen against me at my proximity.  That rush returned and I found it just as thrilling as any job. Her head tilted, like she was fighting with herself to stay still, I almost wished she wouldn’t.  I wasn’t interested in terrorizing her, but something in me had decided pursuing her would be thrilling. She swallowed and turned her head enough to look at me over her shoulder.

 

“Ten minutes.  If I’m left to my work.”

 

 

* * *

 

**Gracyn**

 

The second he walked around the table toward me, my heart started beating hard against my ribs.  If I hadn’t known any better, I was sure he could hear it and was only drawn to the sound, like a predator to its prey.  I didn’t particularly like being in this situation and no one wanted his brute of a friend to be patched up and on his merry way more than me, but I didn’t want there to be any question I was doing what he wanted of me, nothing that might prolong this visit.  We had already been back here at least fifteen minutes. I hadn’t checked the time when I had heard the noise in the backroom and stupidly put myself in this situation with my pathetic attempt at bravery. I couldn’t say the rest of the staff hadn’t begun to return to the clinic and wouldn’t start asking questions about my absence.  I didn’t want there to be a risk one of them would get hurt. I barely had a second to consider that when I felt him behind me, his hands sliding on to the table on either side of me, that damn glowing gun of his clanking against the steel top. He wasn’t pressing himself against me, but he was close enough I could sense the warmth of his body behind me, smell the scent of his soap and sweat on his skin and feel his breath against my ear as he asked me to clarify my statements.  I probably should have been utterly terrified at his closeness, but as he hadn’t put his hands on me yet, I could only hope there was some kind of conscience hidden somewhere in that seasonally inappropriate jacket of his.

 

“How _much_ longer?” He had asked and I felt the muscles in my back involuntarily stiffen in response to his words.  I was suddenly finding myself struggling with logic and reason duking it out with flight or fight. I wanted to be out of this room, away from these men and back to the quiet night I had been having until fifteen minutes ago.  I wanted him to back up and get out of my space, stop using his height and long arms to box me in as a power play on me. The reasonable part of me said that would only happen if I did what he wanted, the fighting part of me said it would only happen if I kicked him in the balls and ran like hell.  Which had always been what I thought I would do if a man (or anyone frankly) did what he was doing.

 

Then again, none of the kind of people I had imagined might do what he was doing, had a George Jetson gun nor did I imagine them having a set of ice-blue eyes that bored holes into your brain just looking at you.  Finally, I gave an answer after what seemed like an eternity on my part and hoped it would be enough.

 

“Ten minutes.  If I’m left to my work.”

 

I waited for a response from, seeing his long, masculine fingers not gripping the gun tap against the table, each tap eliciting a dinging sound within the steel.  He leaned in to speak softly against my ear again and I felt a line of goosebumps run right down my arms, like I had just walked into a freezer.

 

“Ten minutes then, I’ll be counting.” He said and finally he left me be, leaving me to my work.  Relieved, I pulled open the sterile bag containing a disposable staple gun, loaded with fresh staples and began closing the bald man, Mick’s, wounds. I couldn’t be certain staples were the best closing element I could use on a gunshot wound; many of my patients who came in with such wounds were shot with buckshot or an equivalent and as awful and damaging as it was, as many of the pieces had to be removed as possible and the wounds cleaned and left to heal on their own if it hadn’t hit anything important.  I’d never had a wound quite like this and never on a human as that wasn’t my field; I wasn’t knowledgeable enough on caliber sizes as my uninvited guests probably were, but I wasn’t about to ask. All I could see was whatever it had been, it had left a decent size hole, and had managed to go through to his back, where I suspected he had at least the same size, if not larger wound to close, I could only surmise it my best course of action. If it wasn’t, I could only further hope retribution wasn’t amongst this crew’s resume.  I was sure that was wishful thinking on my part, but a girl could dream. I began closing the wounds, pressing the staple gun against the bald cretin’s flesh and waiting for the click to follow as I pressed the trigger.

 

After I had finished that, checked my work to make sure the staples were in place and even, I covered it with a large dressing, taping it down against the large man’s, surprisingly well toned stomach.

 

“Five minutes, Doc.” The dark haired man said, I looked up as I smoothed the last of the tape on that side down.

 

“Help me turn him on his side.” I said, surprised when he followed my instructions, walking over to the other side of the table and pushing his companion up and on his side while I pulled oppositely, adjusting the larger man’s knee into a bent position to keep him steady and not slide over onto his face.  As delightful as that sounded to me right now. Unsure if my attempts to stabilize his friend on the table had worked, the dark haired man remained where he was, holding on with one hand. Returning to surgery mode, I walked over to where the iceman was standing and checked to see if the bleeding I had worked so hard to stop on his partner had returned thanks to needing to move him before I could close him up.  I realized I had left the second sterile staple gun close to baldie’s head and reached for it, underestimating how much space there was between me and my captor and I realized too late I had brushed over his hand with my chest. Any other day and maybe I wouldn’t have been as irritated with myself as I was once I did. I grabbed the bag with the staple gun hurriedly and backed myself up, quickly mumbling I was sorry, as I put my full attention on opening the bag and not looking at him so I didn’t see him smile, but I heard it when he spoke.

 

“Don’t be.” He said and I immediately felt a rush of heated embarrassment crawl up my neck, most assuredly reddening my skin within seconds.  Which made him chuckle. Which only made me feel worse.

 

“Four minutes.” He added as I felt this humiliation keenly. Thankfully I had managed to get the gun out of its bag while this was happening and continued on with my work.  Oh, I desperately wished this was over.

 

 

* * *

 

**Leonard**

 

She managed to finish stapling Mick together with a minute to spare, applying the last bit of medical tape to the bandage on his back in record time. I admired the neat row of staples she’d created to pull the flaps of skin together to make him heal. She might not be a human doctor, but she clearly had a surgeon’s touch that many an animal was lucky to have.

 

Including Mick.

 

“Well, Doc— I’m impressed. You managed to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.” I said, praising her skills. She stayed quiet, though I suspected it had less to do with my compliments and more to do with her accidentally brushing her breasts over my fingers as she grabbed the staple gun. It had clearly been unintentional and although I wasn’t complaining, she had turned bright red and apologized for it, as though she’d forced herself on me.

 

If only she would.

 

Looking at my watch, the half of my brain still thinking about the plan reminded me we had a schedule to keep and returned Mick to his back before sitting him up. She helped me lift him to a sitting position, having returned to the other side of the room, the stainless steel table between us once again.  Apparently her ministrations had been successful in getting Mick back on track, my bald and stupid partner’s eyes began to flutter open groggily, still under the effects of being injured but not completely incapacitated.

 

“Any special instructions, Doc?” I asked as we slid Mick off the table and weakly onto his feet, his weight resting on me almost entirely. Which was unpleasant because he weighed about the same as an elephant.  She looked at me from the other side of Mick before she walked back to the counter lining the wall and pulled out a pad of paper. She took a few seconds to write something, which I was starting to wish she would hurry up with as Mick began to gain weight where we stood.

 

“Change his dressings often and keep the wounds clean.  They’ll probably need to stay in for a week or until the wound is healed enough. He should really take an antibiotic to fight off infections for at least 24 hours but everything I have here is intended for animals so I suggest he keep the area clean and dry as a preventative.  He should have fluids via IV, I have solutions back here I can send with you until he’s strong enough without any symptoms to eat and drink on his own. If he begins to vomit or become feverish, he’s going to _have_ to go to a hospital.” She said putting a few clear bags full of solution into garbage bag along with more bandages and tape. Knowing the first thing Mick would want upon being completely awake would be painkillers, I asked for him, for my own sanity.

 

“And for pain?” She handed me her handwritten directions and I took them with my own free hand. I lifted the paper up to read it, peeking over it to catch her eye.

 

“Tylenol?” I questioned, knowing full well Mick would happily knock over a pharmacy and risk imprisonment before using Tylenol for pain management. He would happily knock over a pharmacy and risk imprisonment WITHOUT needing pain management.

 

“And Advil. The combination I’ve written for you is very effective at controlling pain…” She said authoritatively, a tone of voice I was discovering I found quite sexy coming from her.

 

“ _I’m_ going to need Tylenol once he finds out you’re not giving him harder drugs.” I complained, the look on her face telling me she didn’t really care about my discomfort. She shrugged before sticking out the bag filled with what she was willing to give us and I took that as well, her notes crushing in my hand.

 

“I suppose that’s the price of doing something that gets you shot…” She started but let it trail off, confirming my suspicions that she didn’t care at all.

 

That was unfortunate.

 

Suddenly we heard the doorknob on the door she had come through turn and the sound of someone bumping into it as it didn’t open as one assumed it would, thanks to the work I had done on it with the Cold Gun. I looked back at her, her eyes were wide and I realized she was scared I was going to react badly and kill someone if they got through the door.

 

“ _Doctor Lence?  Doctor Lence, are you back here?”_ A woman’s voice, muffled but understandable came through the door. The doctor looked at me and I jerked my head toward the sound, telling her to get rid of them as I moved Mick toward the second door we had come through. At the very least, despite weighing a ton and resting most of it on me, Mick had started to move his feet with mine, so rather than just a snail’s pace, we were moving at snail’s pace if the snail was on meth.

 

“Uh, yes, Maddie— I uh, I managed to jam the door when I came back here. I’ve been trying to fix it.” I heard her say, throwing her hands up as she tried to come up with a plausible story to keep her coworker at bay.

 

“ _Oh, you should have said something. We brought back a snack for you and got worried when we couldn’t find you. I can come help you.”_ The newcomer responded, to which I snapped my head back to look at the doctor, her face pale at my look as I shook my head, knowing I would be very unhappy for more guests.

 

“Oh— No, Maddie. It’s pretty well frozen…” She said, a smile tugging at my lips at her words, “I’ll put in a maintenance request later, I’ll be up in a minute.” She said, the other woman letting it go and leaving.  I heard her breathe a sigh of relief and then her footsteps on the linoleum floor as she came to my aid in carrying Mick out the door, wrapping an arm around his waist and hooking his armpit over her shoulder. I was glad not to have the full brunt of his weight on me anymore.

 

“ _Doctor_. I didn’t know you cared.” I snarked in response to her help, but she wasn’t in a playing mood.

 

“I don’t… I just don’t want you hurting any of my coworkers if they find us.” She said as she reached out and turned the knob on the door to the hallway we’d come through via an exit to the building. She kicked it open with her foot and poked her head out to make sure no one was coming and then jerked her head at me to indicate it was clear. We shuffled Mick through the door and up the hallway to the back where a getaway car and freedom were waiting for us.  She nudged the door open with her hip and we got Mick down off the curb, flopping him into the passenger seat once I had the door open. He groaned as the movement made his staples pull, but at least it was affirmation he was still breathing. I shut the door and turned to the doctor who was eyeing the door we’d left in case anyone came out of it. It was admirable she cared so much about keeping her coworkers from being caught up in this. Frankly, I wasn’t someone who bothered with any of that, but in the last half hour, I’d bothered with a few things I didn’t usually.

 

“Well, Doc. This is goodbye.” I quipped, the doctor’s worried face telling me, drawing this out was killing her.

 

So naturally, I continued.

 

“I’m sure you don’t want a thanks from me, but—“ I started, surprising her by grabbing her hand. She instinctively pulled back to break my grip, but I kept my fingers tight, not enough to bruise but still keep her hand in mine and maintain control, and pulled her toward me. She resisted but stopped as I lifted her hand and planted a kiss across her knuckles.

 

“Thanks.” I finished, I was no white knight, but I could fake it if I needed to. It had helped me with plenty of jobs where a woman— or a man— had been won over with a little charm. I didn’t want to admit, in this instance I had actually meant it. It was never going to go any other way, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed she wouldn’t believe me. I loosened my fingers and she immediately yanked her hand away and stepped back from me.

 

“You’re right, I don’t want your thanks. Just leave now, please.” She said, still polite to the end. I smiled and nodded my head as walked around the front of the car, ready to drive. This stop had already taken far too long, no matter what I thought about the company I was keeping. I opened the door to the driver’s side and leaned against the frame of the car.

 

“Oh. Doctor… No hard feelings if you call the cops.” I told her, I could see she was struggling not to roll her eyes at me. I moved back and gave her one last look before I folded myself into the car.

 

"If?" She responded backing toward the clinic door, I was surprised to find the ghost of a smile on her lips as she said it.  I didn't answer, there was a 50/50 shot she'd keep her mouth shut.  I wasn't sure which 50 I preferred though.

 

“Be seein’ you, Doc.” I said and with that I took off.  I checked the rear view mirror as I left the parking lot to see her staring after the car. No doubt trying to memorize the plate— that is if I hadn’t iced over it before we’d left for our original job, which made it impossible to read. Besides, we’d stolen the car anyway, so even if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be in it long enough for the police to look for it. I had a police band scanner in the car and flipped it on, listening intently until about two minutes later, a call came from dispatch ordering a squad car to the vet clinic we had just left.  I was impressed, even though I knew her call wouldn’t do much. The police were rarely ever good for anything but wasting their time, but she was quick and efficient at calling for them so soon after we’d taken her hostage and I thought that was delightful.

 

“Why, Doctor Lence— you naughty minx.” I chuckled as I took my sleeping partner home to snore his way back to health.  I didn’t know if I would ever see the feisty, red haired woman again, but I was certainly hoping I would. Soon.


	3. The Second Time... Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months have passed since the first time Gracyn and Leonard Snart met under dubious circumstances, Leonard finds himself laying low and planning his latest move against The Flash. Without much for him to do in the interim, he finds himself planning a new heist, one that will put him squarely back into the world of Gracyn Lence. Anything can be stolen, she just doesn't realize it yet.
> 
> *Set after Revenge of the Rogues, The Flash

**Gracyn**

The second time Leonard Snart showed up in my life, was six months later, in January, when he seemed to be in his element, literally and professionally.  Central City wasn’t covered in snow like most places were at this time of year, but it was plenty cold and I was over it. The week had been insanely busy at the clinic, lots of animals being left in the cold, vehicular related injuries, animals eating leftover Christmas candies, in addition to the usual illnesses that popped up at this time of year.  At least today I was off at a relatively normal hour, my super late night not for another few days. It meant I had been able to take my dog to daycare for the day so she could play with her friends and I didn’t feel guilty she was trapped at home without anyone to entertain her. I would be picking her up once I read my colleague taking over for me in on what cases were staying the night at the hospital.  By the time that was done the sun had gone down and the cold had tightened its grip.

 

I was walking out to my car with my friend Raquel, one of the other veterinarians at the clinic who was off at the same time. I pulled my coat around me tighter as we passed through the doors to the outside, the cold biting into the skin that wasn’t covered. Raquel was chattering about her plans for the evening with her husband as we walked to our cars and I found myself unsurprised when she asked after my own plans.

 

“So, doing anything fun tonight?” She asked me and I let out a snort.

 

“Ohhhh no. I’m going to get Rita and then I have a date with my bed.” I answered, my feet were killing me and I was bone dead tired. Except for a shower to scrub off the day, sleep was beckoning.  Raquel tsked at me and I could tell this conversation was going to lead where it always did.

 

“You need to find _something_ or _someone—_ you never have anything planned after you’re done working.  Oo! Go to a wine tasting, that’s what me and Tom are doing before dinner.” She said excitedly, sounding more like my mother every time this conversation happened.  I rolled my eyes as I pushed unlock on my car key fob. Every once in awhile I thought it might be nice to have something to do outside of work and occasionally I wished it were with a boyfriend or at least someone I enjoyed being around, but my schedule was unforgiving and I wasn’t ready to look for a job that had more consistently normal hours. I shrugged as I opened my car door and tossed my bag into the passenger seat.

 

“Raquel— I don’t do wine tastings... Besides, my bed knows how to spoon. I’m _good_.” I answered sarcastically, my friend laughing, off my back for now, though I knew this same conversation was probably going to happen several more times this week alone. We said goodbye and set off on our separate ways, me blasting music to keep myself awake as I headed for the kennel where my favorite face was waiting for me.

 

Rita was my three year old Bernese Mountain dog. Aside from being a hundred pounds of fluff and love, she was possibly the only best friend I had. Which sounded pathetic, but was fine with me. She wasn’t a judgmental jerk when I screwed up and generally thought I was pretty awesome even at my worst.  Which she proved even now when the kennel staff brought her up for me, my fuzzy girl bouncing like a lunatic at me the second she saw me. Giving her a hug around her neck, I took care of the bill and got her in the car. I asked about her day, totally oblivious to the fact she couldn’t respond because in my world, she could. We got home in record time, because I was ready to crash. I was barely through the door before I had kicked off my shoes, my feet screaming a thank you as I stretched my toes, Rita immediately whining and making a fuss at me for dinner.

 

“Cool your jets, fuzzbutt, I’m getting there.” I said taking off my coat and hanging it by the door, my scrub top and socks following suit and tossed into the hamper I put by the door knowing myself well enough it would end up on the floor otherwise. I knew the heat was on in the house but my shoulders left bare from the tank top I wore under my scrubs were still cold. I rubbed them as I walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet where Rita’s food was stored, filling up her dish and setting it in her feeder. She’d suddenly  gone quiet, which was odd given she would normally be in my face up until I put her food down.

 

“Rita, your dinner is served, where are you?” I said, waiting for the familiar click of her nails on the wood floor.  I looked around and discovered she wasn’t even in the kitchen anymore; worrying a little, I walked out in search of her.

 

“Rita?” I called again, turning lights on as I looked for my dog and felt my stomach drop when I got to the living room and found someone, sitting in one of chairs, hand running through Rita’s long, thick fur as she sat beside them, quietly wagging.

 

“I never pegged you as a big dog kinda gal, Doc.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Leonard**

 

For a man who tended to live with a plan in his head for every occasion, I couldn’t explain how returning to the animal clinic I had held a hostage in six months ago was part of one, but I suppose I could blame it on not really _needing_ a plan at the moment.  Although Mick and I were already wanted men, we were more recently wanted for escaping police custody.  Thanks to my little sister, Lisa, our stay with the legal system had been brief. My plans to take The Flash down had failed spectacularly, leaving Mick and I devoid of our Heat and Cold Guns, but also forcing me to be more motivated than ever to figure out a way to defeat the Scarlet Speedster.  It was a temporary setback, but a big enough one to make Mick and I lay low for awhile. Just long enough to stay off the radar and let things settle down in Central City, give the speedy loser a chance to think he’d won before we showed him how wrong he was.

 

Admittedly, that meant not knocking over banks or stealing precious jewels for the time being; which though frustrating for me, was something _I_ could overcome with the future promise of The Flash falling by my hand.  Mick on the other hand, naturally, wanted to burn something down and immediately.  He wasn’t as invested at beating The Flash at his own game, preferring to barrel in to take and destroy rather than quietly wait for the opportune moment to freeze things in place.  It was why I was the brains of the operation, obviously, or we’d be in Iron Heights right now, watching each other’s beards grow. We’d gotten into another argument about it, Mick having suggested we take out an armored car caravan that was scheduled to drive through Central City on its way to its final destination.  Although he made a compelling argument for it, and had it been any other time I would have happily obliged, I already had a plan, one that would put us ahead of the game once more. Mick was just going to have to deal with it. Which meant he was getting stone drunk, Lisa was off doing whatever Lisa did when she wasn’t with us and left me to my thoughts.  Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, I liked being in my head, calculating a plan, but I was feeling particularly restless tonight and our plan was as calculated as it was going to be at the moment. So I found myself looking for something to do. Drinking, although more a talent Mick possessed in spades didn’t seem like a bad idea, or maybe picking a few pockets during a leisurely stroll through town in this delightfully cold weather would take the edge off not being able to do a big job right now.

 

Although it helped and I was about $200 in cash, thousands in credit cards and several bracelets and rings richer within half an hour of walking around town, I found pickpocketing wasn’t enough to keep me focused.  I needed something more, but I couldn’t tell you what-- Or at least I couldn’t until I found myself standing in front of an emergency veterinary clinic. The very same I had been in 6 months prior with my injured partner.  I was not a man who wasted time I could be stealing something on women; I had them, occasionally, when I wanted one but the ones I had didn’t usually require much effort. Getting bogged down with relationships made it far more difficult to be effective at a life of crime, it was difficult enough with a crew like mine and frankly, some of that was because part of that crew was my little sister.  The only person in the world I actually cared about more than being the best thief in Central City-- or the world, if I was being honest, which was rare. I had a loyalty to Mick as my partner, but even he didn’t have the same sway on me as my sister. Something I wouldn’t admit openly-- that didn’t negate it, but here we were anyway. I looked at the building, arguing with myself that I had questionable reasoning skills if I was here for what I thought I was.

 

Usually once we were done with a job, the only thing I cared to remember was our success or failure.  Something _had_ gone wrong 6 months ago, but it had been a lucky shot from some faceless security guard and not a flaw in the plan I had concocted; we had gotten what we were there for, so I shouldn’t have been thinking on it anymore.  However-- every once in awhile I’d see a red head around town or during a job and I found myself thinking back to the veterinarian that had been roped into taking care of Mick. She hadn’t liked me much, at all really, which I couldn’t really blame her for since I had used the power of fear and innuendo to keep her on task.  I wasn’t very sorry about it either, which she had picked up on no doubt. But somehow, she’d managed to worm her way into my brain and became part of a plan that I hadn’t really planned. That both thrilled and irritated me for all its implications.

 

When I saw her leave the clinic with a coworker, that new plan flashed into my head and I found myself feeling the familiar rush that came with doing something I shouldn’t, but wanted to anyway. No doubt she didn’t think she was something I could steal-- She was wrong, but she’d find that out soon enough.  I was morally bankrupt and didn’t mind using people for my own needs, I had proven many times before taking hostages and hurting people wasn’t out of my wheelhouse either, but in this case, I wasn’t interested in forcing myself _on_ her.  That sort of thing was beneath a criminal of my caliber anyway, maybe it was the big brother in me, maybe it just didn’t seem helpful in executing the kind of plans I had, but either way it wasn’t my style.

 

No, I wanted her to come to me of her own free-will.

 

Despite her snarky responses and clear dislike during our last meeting, she seemed the wholesome, sweet, take-her-home-to-your-parents type that I usually found vomit-inducing.  She wasn’t going to be an easily won prize and I was just bored enough to do the work to make that happen. Call it rude if you want, but I honestly didn’t have anything better to do.  In usual lurker fashion, I stuck to the shadows, far enough away I wouldn’t draw attention, but close enough I could hear the end of her conversation with her coworker.

 

“So, doing anything fun tonight?” The dark haired woman asked, tugging her purse higher up on her shoulder as they made their way to their vehicles.  My red-haired target shook her head adamantly.

 

“Ohhhh no. I’m going to get Rita and then I have a date with my bed.” She responded, my ears perking at her words.  Who was Rita? Did she have a roommate? A sister… A lover maybe? I hadn’t considered that, but it presented an interesting thought nonetheless.  I focused back on the conversation as her friend suggested my dear doctor get a life, a suggestion that was quickly shut down.

 

“Raquel— I don’t do wine tastings... Besides, my bed knows how to spoon. I’m _good_ .” She answered and I found the thought enticing; big spoon or little spoon?  This was going to be far more fun than drinking Mick under the table at some dive bar.  She said her goodbyes and got into her car, which meant I would have to boost one to follow her; that wasn’t a challenge for me and within a minute or two I was behind her driving through Central City in some teenager’s beater of a car, if the graduation tassel and fuzzy dice on the rear view mirror were any indication.  A twenty minute drive and a stop that wasn’t a residential address educated me that _Rita--_ Was a dog.  A very fluffy and very _large_ dog.

 

“Don’t worry, Leonard.  Dogs love you.” I muttered to myself, Rita also appeared to be very devoted to her mistress, looking up at Dr. Lence every few seconds as the two walked out to the car together, hopping into the backseat and turning to give her a lick on the face as her owner scratched her behind the ears before shutting the door and driving them out of the parking lot.  Most dogs, if not trained for security, did not react to strangers in their house the way a lot of owners hoped for. They may bark and try to make themselves larger, but if threatened or bought off with a treat, they usually stayed out of the way. Rita was large and adoring of her owner, but I suspected the good doctor hadn’t trained her dog as protection.  

 

The house she pulled up to after another ten minute drive was a well kept two story Craftsman.  Either she didn’t make much in the veterinary field or she was modest with her money. Another reason why my calling was thievery and not putting in what she would likely call an honest day’s work.  I guess what I was saying was Mick and I probably wouldn’t bother stealing from her unless we had nothing better to do. High value targets were always our priority. Besides, the only thing I was looking to make off with wasn’t even in the house yet.  I pulled up in the shadows across from the house and waited until she was in the house before I crossed the street. The gate to her fence was unlocked, no surprise there, and gave me access to cut across her backyard and onto her back deck. I walked quietly across the wooden planks.  She had a sliding glass door that led into a small dining room, the locks on sliding doors weren’t particularly difficult to unlock and barely required any effort for someone like me, which I proved when I popped it open within a few seconds of looking at it. Sliding into the house, I was careful as I walked through it so as not to bump into anything before I surprised her with my presence.

 

I heard her talking to her dog in the kitchen and the sound of kibble being dumped into a bowl.  I found an overstuffed chair in her living room that could be seen from the space between the kitchen and the living room once lights were turned on.  I had barely sat down when a large missile made of fur and drool flung itself at me from nowhere. Apparently Rita had discovered I was in the house. Luck must have been on my side because a quick check of the car I’d boosted had produced a small bag of semi-stale potato chips, which I had brought with me for this eventuality.  At first Rita had given a low growl as she sniffed and didn’t recognize me, but crooning her name softly (typical woman) and holding out a chip quieted her. The giant cotton ball sat beside me, beginning to wag, crunching happily at the snack I’d given her. I pet Rita reassuringly, I wasn’t interested in harming her owner today, but she still wouldn’t be happy to see me.  

 

That was unfortunate.

 

 A few seconds later I could hear Dr. Lence calling for the dog, who was currently begging me for another chip.  It didn’t take long for Lence to begin turning lights on as she started looking for Rita, including a floor lamp sitting opposite me.  A millisecond of adjustment to the light in the room and those blue-green eyes focused on me petting her dog.

 

“I never pegged you as a big dog kinda gal, Doc.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Gracyn**

 

My stomach finally bottomed out and rather than shock, a healthy mix of anger and fear shot through me.  Not just because he had his hands on my dog, though that was definitely on the top three list of things that concerned me in this moment, but that he was in my house and I didn’t know why.  After six months of hearing or seeing nothing about him, I had let my guard down. I _had_ called the police, something I had intended to do with or without his smart ass blessing when we’d loaded his gorilla friend into their getaway car.  After showing them the evidence of the frozen door, the bloody gauze in the back room and my statement, it was pretty clear the police knew full well who he was and that they wouldn’t be catching him anytime soon.

 

“Rita!” I spluttered, my beautiful but sometimes stupidly social dog looking up at me from her new best friend but not moving.  I snapped my fingers for her and with a huff, she left his side and came over to mine, licking my fingers reassuringly. Once she had moved I realized he’d bought her love with a bag of potato chips.

 

“You sold me out over a bag of chips?!  Traitor.” I hissed at her, but Rita didn’t get the message, happily flopping at my feet, a small cloud of fuzz exploding off her.

 

“Don’t be mad, Doc-- She’s a lover, not a fighter.”  He said in that tone of his that irritated the ever-loving hell out of me.  Twice in a year-- how did I manage to get so lucky.

 

“Well, lucky for you I’m the opposite, Mr. Snart.” I said through gritted teeth, a smug smile curling across his face.  He appeared pleased I knew his name, I had actually known it before our first meeting, but I was a little busy at the time and hadn’t really thought about what I had seen on the news weeks earlier.  The police had just managed to confirm it when they’d arrived after his quick departure.

 

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear it.”

 

I closed my eyes, rushing through the list of things I had within reach that I could use as a weapon.  If he was here to hurt me for calling the police half a year ago, or if something had gone wrong with his partner… My eyes flew open as I considered this, maybe this was some act of revenge if the bald buffoon had died from his wounds and he blamed me.  Waiting for the perfect opportunity to take care of me when I least expected it. Or maybe he hadn’t died and he was somewhere in the house waiting for me like his friend here. The man in front of me was no doubt dangerous, but his partner had threatened to burn me alive right before I had started to work on his wound.  Of the two of them, it seemed more likely the hot head would kill me just for the fun of it.

 

“Where’s your partner?” I asked, trying not to say it nervously though I was definitely nervous.  He smiled again, crossing one leg over the other, my attempt at sounding not unnerved he was in my house apparently failing.

 

“Mick?  He’s out working on cirrhosis of the liver-- I could give him a call though, I’m sure he’d love to catch up.” He responded and although part of me was relieved he wasn’t here to kill me because his partner had kicked the bucket, I couldn’t help but feeling a little disappointed anyway.  One less criminal in the world might have been a blessing for Central City. And maybe I wouldn’t have one sitting in my living room either.

 

“No need.  I’m sure all those _smart_ choices he’s making will catch up with him eventually.” I said, that cold smile of his crossing his lips again.  Although I had absolutely no reason to, his remaining seated and not making any sudden moves gave me the chance to look him over.  The last time I had been around him, veiled threats and evidence those threats could and would be carried out had kept me from spending too much time looking at him.  His thigh lacked even the holster of that freeze ray of his, which was relieving, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have something else on him I couldn’t see. He was dressed in variations of black, which made absolute sense; being a criminal and all.  If I had seen him in any other life, I would have thought him attractive. His features were cut with precision, like, if I wanted to admit being facetious in this moment, an ice sculpture. I would have also been drawn to his eyes... In another life. They were the clearest blue I’d ever seen, reminiscent of a frozen pond.  I saw the same intelligence from months ago when I had braved a look while working, but that cold, calculating regard was still very much alive and well also. There was something else though, something I wasn’t sure I wanted to try labeling, because it would make me sympathetic to him and I didn’t much care to be.

 

“No doubt--” He responded, uncrossing his legs and standing up suddenly, “But enough about, Mick…” He continued, his move from the chair made me back further out of the living room, ready to bolt for a door or a kitchen knife, whichever was first and more necessary.  He put his hands up in surrender, as though I would believe it from him.

 

“Don’t worry, Doc-- I’m not here to hurt you.” He said, as though I would believe that either.  He really was a smug bastard.

 

“ _Sure_ , you’re just here for a social call, certainly nothing to do with the fact I called the police on you that night or anything.” I responded, the sparkle in his eye curious and suspicious simultaneously.  He shrugged my words off, apparently not really that concerned; was there anything that flapped him?

 

“I told you no hard feelings if you did-- I’m a man of my word.” He said and I almost clapped a hand over my mouth when I heard a laugh bubble out of me before I had even realized what I was doing.  He tilted his head as he regarded me, face placid, eyes searching mine. Between my own idiotic response and his proclivities for criminal acts, I was surprised I wasn’t dead by now.

 

“You find that funny?” He asked me, no sign if my laughing had upset or fascinated him.  I wasn’t sure which I would prefer, just that it didn’t lead to my demise.

 

“I find it odd.”

 

“You don’t think criminals can keep their word?”

 

“I do-- I just think they keep their word when it suits them.”

 

“And you don’t think keeping my word to you suits _me_?”  He said it slow and in that tone that somewhere between snark and seduction and my skin pulled a Rita, betraying me for a treat at the sound of a man acting interested in pleasing me; my flesh exploding with goosebumps.  Since I was, what felt like, half naked in front of him having started my usual routine of undress before heading upstairs, there wasn’t much to keep him from seeing it. That damn smile of his, the one that said he’d gotten the reaction he’d wanted out of me, appeared once more and I found my fingers clenching as I considered if I could pull off punching him in the face before he could catch me.  He seemed to be bringing out the worst in me with every meeting and I didn’t care much for that either.

 

“Seems to suit _you_ just fine.” He said, eyes raking across my renegade skin, ever the arrogant douchebag.  I shrugged my shoulders, flesh still pimpled with electricity.

 

“It’s cold in here.” I said, trying to shake it off, as though he’d been mistaken I’d had a visceral, unwanted reaction to his words.  He pursed his lips and looked around the room as though testing the air.

 

“Really?  I hadn’t noticed.”

 

God he was insufferable.

 

I didn’t get to respond before he moved closer, my feet at least getting with the program that we shouldn’t be that close to someone on CCPD’s most wanted list, much less someone who had broken into my house, stalking toward me like some white tiger on steroids.

 

“Here’s my proposal, Doc.  We got off on the wrong foot…” He started, a snort escaping me.  What the hell was wrong with me? He smiled again, still sauntering toward me, ignoring that I took a step back for every one he took forward.

 

“You saved my partner’s life, admittedly I didn’t give you much choice, but that doesn’t change the fact you did and that leaves me in your debt.  I don’t like debts.” He said, the presumption I cared if a master criminal owed me one just as infuriating as everything else he’d done so far. The thought flew out of my head as soon as my backside ran into one of my dining room chairs.  Like a genius, I’d managed to corner myself _for_ him.  I was literally the worst in these situations and my learning curve was apparently pretty low, so I shrugged off his words, trying to seem unbothered.

 

“I’m good- I helped your partner, you both left without hurting anyone, consider us even.” I said, pretty sure that wasn’t going to satisfy him, but attempting to scooch myself down the table until there wasn’t a slab of wood blocking my exit anyway.  I didn’t move fast enough and soon he was right in front of me, boxing me in like he had that night when he wanted to know how much longer I was going to take. My lungs squeezed themselves shut, my breath stopping as he was inches from me. There were approximately ten thousand incomplete thoughts running through me head all at once.  Some were telling me to knee him and run, others listing the things he was probably about to do me, none of which were pleasant and then some, the rogues in my brain considered just how exciting his closeness was. They were at least in the minority, buuuuuut they were still there and it was pissing me off.

 

“Oh, you _are_ good.” He said looking me in the eye and those things I still didn’t want to label were still very present.  “But I’m afraid I can’t just leave it at that.” He persisted and all I could wonder was what his endgame was, what did he really want, if it wasn’t something sinister.  Which I still didn’t believe wasn’t the case.

 

“What do you say to dinner?” He said, the words causing me go completely still.  

 

“What?”

 

“Well I would have suggested Gelato, far less pressure, but most people can’t take the cold this time of year.” He answered, that deadpan snark causing my hackles to raise again.

 

“Are you kidding?” I said incredulously, he couldn’t be serious, could he?  The second I’d realized he was in the house, at no point did I believe this is where the conversation would go.

 

“I don’t kid.”

 

“Well you certainly seem like you’re trying to be funny.” I spat out, as with basically everything I had managed during this whole charade, I wasn’t thinking before I did it; but I was honestly shocked, stunned, overwhelmed, infuriated and a thousand other words that described what I was in this moment.

 

“Are you saying no?” He asked, asking like it hadn’t been entirely obvious that’s what I was saying.

 

“What else would I be saying?”

 

“You haven’t really said anything at all.” He said and I felt my head tilt as I looked at him like he was stupid.  For a man who had planned and effectively pulled off dozens of heists throughout Central City without being caught or being held in police custody for long if he was, he was playing dumb pretty believably.

 

“Six months ago, you held me at... Freeze ray.... Point while making me clean up your partner, _who_ also threatened to burn me alive I might add and _now_ you’ve broken into my house and are asking me to dinner like none of that happened.  That saying enough for you?” I responded, my hands balling up and coming to rest on my hips as I chastised him.  He seemed unimpressed by my tirade, peering at me from inches away.

 

“Words that were suspiciously devoid of an answer.”

 

“You’re lucky I haven’t called the police.”

 

“Still not an answer.”

 

“No.”

 

“I don’t believe you.” He said, smug and assertive and infuriating remaining his forte.

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“Sure you do.”

 

“You don’t know me-- Don’t act like that’s why you’re here.” I responded coldly, though I suspected nothing I could dish out would ever match his own, chilly disposition.

 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but I can see you’re curious.” He said with another shrug, I honestly didn’t know how much more of this I could take before I made an attempt to get away.  Why I hadn’t already was beyond me. I didn’t want to consider it, actually.

 

“About you?” I questioned him, if he was going to try to pull this on me, then I’d at least get the pleasure of him admitting this was about him.  Then again, it was pretty clear it was always about him, so what I was accomplishing probably wasn’t much of a win after all. He looked at his hands, picking at them for a second before returning his gaze to my face.

 

“Me.  The life of crime, everything.  I can tell, you were curious before, at the hospital and you're curious now--S _omething_ about me intrigues _you.”_ He answered, making it seem like I had called him up and invited him over.  As if the last six months of my life had been spent thinking about the time I’d been locked in a storage room with two criminals, one of whom had a look that could freeze your soul.  The indignance I was feeling had started to feel a little bitter, because I had thought about it--him-- More than I’d ever be willing to admit.

 

“You’re full of it.” I told him and nodded, brows lifted in agreement.

 

“Yeah.”

 

It was quiet for a minute, I was afraid to open my mouth for fear something worse would come out of it and really cause me trouble.  My silence gave him the opportunity to repeat his invitation and as he still had me trapped by my dining room table and my phone was currently sitting in my coat pocket on the other side of the house, I was either going to have to try to get away by fighting him or I was going to have to go along with this game until I could find an opening to get away from him.

 

“So, what do you say, now that we’ve cleared that up?” He asked again, waiting for my response expectantly.  I knew I was going to hate myself for this, but I also knew that a man like him hadn’t escaped prison multiple times, stolen whatever he wanted, killed people in the process and gotten into a pissing contest with The Flash (Central City’s current superhero) to be taken down by a veterinarian who had more training in putting living things back together than taking them apart.  So I’d let him ‘take me to dinner’, find a way to get away from him to call the police and wave goodbye as they took him away-- until he broke out again.

 

And then I was going to move.

 

“Fine-- If it’ll get you out of my house and out of my life, we’ll go to dinner…” I put up a finger as he started to smirk.  “But somewhere very public.” I added, he put his hands up in mock surrender.

 

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” He added and it was all I could do contain myself from retorting far more harshly than I did.

 

“And there’s the biggest lie you’ve told tonight.” He smiled at me, with that look, that ridiculous look.

 

“The night’s still young.”


	4. The Second Time Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard has managed to get Gracyn to join him, but it's possible the plan won't go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos! I hope you've been enjoying this, it's been fun for me!

**Leonard**

If I were a good man, I would have felt badly for intruding on her and flustering her into coming out with me.  Thankfully, I wasn’t a good man, so it didn’t make me feel anything of the sort. All of this was for my amusement, right?  Even if it might be at her expense. Her feisty responses were certainly charming and I found the banter between us, though hardly friendly, rather fun.  I watched her as I backed up and released her from the trap she’d put herself into. She stalked to her front door, pulling a long sleeve shirt from the hamper next to it, yanking it over her head quickly so she could keep an eye on me. Her dog, Rita, the walking cotton ball, got up from the puddle she’d been on the floor and came over to nuzzle my hand, looking for more potato chips.

 

Doc saw this, her eyes narrowing that her beloved pet was being friendly with the neighborhood riffraff.  She shook her head as she shoved her feet into a pair of boots.

 

“If you want to change into something more comfortable, Doc. I’ve got time.” I told her, the look on her face priceless as she continued on, grabbing a thick fleece jacket off a hook on the wall.

 

“And prolong this thrilling experience?  No thanks.” She said, closing the jacket with a hurried zip.  Rita had abandoned me during our exchange, disappointed that she hadn’t received more treats, joining her mistress where she stood. Doc leaned down and gave the living Swiffer a hug before sending her off.  She opened the door and gestured for me to exit ahead of her. I obliged, not overly concerned about her fleeing as she hadn’t bolted the second she’d been near a door.

 

Was it possible I had been correct she was curious? What a curse it was to be right all the time.

 

I waited for her at the bottom of the porch stairs, snorting when she turned to lock her door. She turned to glare at me over her shoulder.

 

“I’m sure this is funny to you, but until 20 minutes ago, I was blissfully confident that I would never see you again— excuse me for forgetting locks don’t deter you at all.” She said, shoving her keys in her coat pocket and joining me at the bottom of the stairs. I shrugged nonchalantly.

 

“No worries, most people live under that delusion.”

 

She rolled her eyes at me and for a moment, we were quiet, looking at one at another; those blue-greens looking right into mine. I felt myself hesitate, a sensation I was entirely unused to and frankly offended by in my adulthood. I turned myself down the sidewalk, so I was no longer looking at her.

 

“So, what are you in the mood for, Doc?  Pizza, sushi— Steak? My treat, I’ve got a wad of cash burning a hole in my pocket.” I said, feeling her eye me as we began to walk aimlessly.

 

“Any of it actually yours?” She asked me and I risked giving her a look, faux innocence on my face.

 

“It’s mine _now_.” I responded and she seemed resigned to the fact I was what I was. There was progress at least, nothing I detested more than there being doubt I was anything but a master thief.  She stayed quiet as we walked, we didn’t have a plan, not typically how I chose to go about things, even if I wasn’t on a heist. It was strangely fine though, normal even as we strolled across the concrete, passing through the neighborhood like we had intended to spend time together tonight. It was fairly cold now that the sun was totally down and a typical Central City January evening had overtaken it.  I was quite comfortable with it, I hadn’t even elected to wear my parka, which had been a part of my wardrobe for a while now. While I was comfortable, the good doctor was clearly not, shoving her hands in her pockets and her cheeks already beginning to pinken from the cold.

 

“You seem cold, Doc. We could take a cab…” I started but she shook her head, cutting me off.

 

“Walking is fine… We’re not that far from downtown.” She said and although I knew it was because she didn’t want to be that close to me, she wasn’t actually wrong. Although her work was on the opposite end of it, she lived within walking distance of the edge of the downtown area and that edge had plenty of places where she could warm up. Why it concerned me, I didn’t know, but apparently it did.

 

“You never said what you were in the mood for.” I asked again, this time she shrugged.

 

“I don’t have a preference.”

 

“Don’t have a preference, or just being difficult?” I asked and she stopped, swinging toward me, eyes on fire.  Unlike Mick who probably would have taken a swing at me already if I upset him, she tempered herself before responding.  Her self-control was admirable.

 

“Mr. Snart, I could think of a thousand things I’d rather be doing right now than walking, in the dark, in the middle of January with a wanted man-- And not just any wanted man, the very same one that held me hostage 6 months ago.” She said through gritted teeth, I nodded my head in agreement, she had me there.

 

“That’s true.”

 

“So if you want to think I’m being difficult, go ahead.  I can live with that.” She finished, turning away from me again to keep on walking and for half a second I considered just dropping the whole thing and leaving her be.  

 

Considered.

 

I had decided I was going through with this before I’d even stolen the first car to follow her home.  Just like the few robberies that had gone sideways, I always came back and I _always_ got what I was after.  Whatever that might be, I couldn’t say just yet.  Sure, make a plan, execute the plan, expect the plan to go off the rails, throw out the plan was still very much my personal mantra, but I didn’t actually believe this particular plan had gone off the rails.  Yet. She still wasn’t running, her phone was in her coat pocket and she hadn’t tried to use it once, for all her protestations, she was still sticking around. That didn’t seem like the reaction of someone who was desperate for something to be over.  

 

Like I said-- The night was still young.

  
  


**Gracyn**

 

I knew I wasn’t getting angry with him when I snapped out my last response.  I was getting angry with me. We were out of my house now, I had my phone, we were starting to pass people on the street and yet I wasn’t doing anything to get away from him.  His suggestion I was curious about him had struck me hard; I wasn’t, was I? How could I be? He had held me hostage. He’d let me go as he had said he would, but he wouldn’t have had to if he was a law-abiding citizen like the rest of us.  His partner had threatened to kill me. His partner, not him, he’d never specifically threatened my life; no he’d just let me run with the idea he would were I to give him trouble… Which was basically the same thing, as threatening me, right?

 

Why was I questioning all of this now?  

 

After a quiet walk, he finally stopped in front of what could only be described as a dive with a bar in it.  Naturally this would be where he’d take me, but then again, I’d said I’d had no preference, so this was what I was going to get.  Walked into that one. The atmosphere was as I expected, dimly lit by neon signs advertising booze, smokey, the overpowering scent of beer and leather was easily attributed to the herd of bikers currently parked against the bar.  It wasn’t loud, surprisingly enough; maybe it was still early enough in the evening that the raucous behavior I would have expected hadn’t started yet. Aside from the occasional outburst of laughter from the group at the bar, the sound of music from the jukebox and the sudden clack of pool balls running into one another, the atmosphere wasn’t as overwhelming as one might expect.  Not that I was a stranger to dive bars. I didn’t drink, but there had been nights out with college friends in places where IDs weren’t checked that well and the sneaking suspicion good friends were going to make bad choices without a chaperone. Sometimes the only way to socialize was to hang out with people for a “drink” when everyone else felt they needed to unwind after a midterm or stressful clinical.  Which most likely made me the most boring person currently in this place-- And the even bigger likelihood that I was the only person in this room not arrested or convicted of a crime, present company included.

 

At least I wouldn’t risk running into anyone I knew here, my family and few friends having heard both from me and the news that there had been a rather uneventful hostage situation at my clinic and that I had been forced into taking care of a wounded criminal while his partner in literal crime eyeballed me from across the room.  My mother was an avid listener of police scanners, frequently texting me at odd hours of the night to tell me all about the latest call she had heard and its vicinity from my house. She knew full well who Leonard Snart was thanks to that scanner and had nearly had a stroke when she’d heard the location of his latest caper, 6 months ago.

 

If only she could see me now.

 

We found a booth that was off in the corner, but still gave me a view of the doorway out of here and the staff could see me; that is if they were easily bothered by a woman waving them over to tell them they needed to call the police.  My guess was probably not, but it made me feel better to think they would anyway. Out of habit and probably nerves, I yanked my pony holder out of my hair, quickly dragging my fingers through the now loose strands and just as quickly wrapping my hair up on the back of my head so it wasn’t free against my neck.  I realized I had drawn Snart’s attention as he watched me tuck my hair up and out of the way, he tilted his head thoughtful, those cold eyes focusing on me with scary precision.

 

“You should let your hair down, Doc.” He said in that tone, the one where he knew anything and everything about how this was going to go and I didn’t.  I shook my head as I finished wrapping the pony holder around my hair and let my hands fall back to the table, confident everything was secure again. Even if I had wanted to, if it meant giving him an inch, I was going to be a terror over it.

 

“I don’t like it in my face.”

 

“But you keep it long.” He said, guessing from the number of times I’d had to wrap the hair and the holder to keep it in place that I had quite a lot of it.  It was also thick, which meant it weighed what felt like twenty pounds, more when I had a migraine. I nodded, not sure I wanted to talk about my hair, much less myself with him.

 

“Not all of us can pull off a buzz cut.” I said indicating his own hairstyle.  Likely chosen for a variety of reasons, most I would surmise had to do with his life of crime.  He smiled, the kind of smile that doesn’t totally reach the eyes. I had an inkling of how that should make me feel, but in reality it made me pity him, that he didn’t allow the showing of true emotions.  Which was exactly the opposite of me.

  


“Touche.” He said, a happy reprieve arriving in the form of a waitress, an older blonde woman in a Harley Davidson burn out t-shirt, dark jeans, boots and an apron tied tight around her waist.  She nodded at Leonard, which told me he came here enough the staff knew him. Well wasn’t that just dandy?

 

“What can I get for ya, Len?” She asked in a gruff voice, confirming what I’d already figured on my own.  Since there wasn’t a menu to choose from, I could only assume this was the type of place that had all of two things to choose from and everyone had been coming here long enough to know what they were without asking.

  


“Mindy, how’s it been?” He asked in that sultry tone of his and I noticed the blonde woman, who seemed pretty rough in her own right softened a little bit when those ice blue eyes landed on her.  Well, it probably paid off to be charming in his line of work, no doubt he was an expert at faking being interested in anything anyone had to say if it meant he could steal their stuff. She gave a small shrug of her shoulders as she held her pen and pad ready for his order.

 

“I could complain, but what good would it do me?” She said, he let out a chuckle and tapped his fingers against the edge of the worn wood table.

 

“Isn’t that the truth?” He responded and I practically had to suck my lips into my own face to keep from laughing out loud.  If Leonard Snart knew anything about truth, then I was certainly a liar myself. Mindy still took his words in with a school girl crush in her eye and raised the hand with the pad to show she was ready.  With the pleasantries out of the way he proceeded with his order.

 

“I’ll take a steak, rare, a side of rings and a beer-- cold, ice cold.” He said it like he was the James Bond of super villains and I had to bite the inside of my cheek not to say so.  I honestly didn’t know what to say to him, because I’d spent enough time saying things that could irritate him enough to leave me somewhere no one would find the body so far. Mindy finished writing his order down and then turned her head to look at me.

 

“And for you, Red?” she said, albeit not rudely, but I still felt a little sore about how my evening was going and not loving being called a pet name by someone who didn’t know me.  I smiled up at her, hoping she’d see I wasn’t entirely sincere with it myself.

 

“I’ll just have the same, please-- Only, could I get a club soda with a lime instead of a beer… Please.” I said shortly, Mindy giving me a look like I was insane for ordering a non-alcoholic drink in a place that was clearly intended for people with a drinking problem.  She looked at Leonard as though asking if he knew he was with a loony-bird and he closed his eyes and shrugged that he did.

 

“You know we have booze here, right?” she asked in a gruff tone, unsure if maybe I didn’t know how this place worked or she had misheard me and I nodded, sickly sweet, pointing at Leonard through my hands clasped ahead of me.

 

“I know-- He won a bet, I’m the designated driver.” I said, Mindy’s eyes widening for a second that “Oooook.” sort of way as she added more to her pad and backed away from the table.

 

“Be right out.” She said, still looking at me like I was batty.  That wasn’t upsetting to me, it was a look I got frequently in my college days when I’d ordered my usual club soda and a lime instead of shots or beer.  Hands still clasped, I felt the nerves from my belly escaping through them as they tapped against the table and even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could tell he was looking at me.  They weren’t nerves from being terrified but I _was_ terrified to admit it, the nerves were something entirely different now.  He stretched his long legs out from under the table, standing as he considered the room, finding what he was looking for.  He turned back to me and held out a hand.

 

"You play pool, Doc?" he asked me and it stopped me short, it an unexpected question.  Was he really wanting to extend this evening out anyway he could? This was the strangest experience I had ever had.  If it meant I was up and able to move if I needed to, I guess it didn't really matter and nodded shortly.

 

"Yeah-- But it's been awhile." I said, which wasn't far from the truth.  My last round of pool had been years ago at one of my last outings with my college friends, we'd found the sketchiest bar we could and played round after round of pool.  We'd been so good at it, we'd manage to win bets against bikers who had underestimated a group of, no doubt what they'd thought was a bunch of preppy college girls and ended up losing their shirts for it.  It had been fun, but that was years ago when I was young and probably wilder than I was now in my middle age. His eyes had that look like he was going to enjoy this as I stood up.

 

"Are we playing for something?" I asked and the look grew more interested, practically twinkling at the prospect.

 

"World peace?" He quipped and I couldn't keep the tell-tale eye roll from crossing my face.

 

"A generous and truly altruistic cause-- and completely unlike you." I responded as I joined him at the table.  He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and tossed it on the edge of the table.

 

"Good?" He said and I shrugged.

 

"Sure... Stingy." I said as I selected a cue and he got the balls set up on the table.  He looked at me like he couldn't quite grasp on what I was; some boring, nobody veterinarian from Central City, or trouble like him.  I was happy to be the enigma for a change, I don't know why, I shouldn't have _wanted_ to be interesting to him, to keep his attention on me when his swift exit out of my life was all a not crazy person would have wanted.  In an out of character act of gentlemanly behavior, he let me take the first turn. As I leaned over the table and prepared my first shot, he leaned thoughtfully against his own cue.

 

“So you don’t drink, huh?” He asked and I forced myself to look at him in the eye.  I shook my head in the negative, but that wasn’t enough of an answer for him. “And why is that?” It wasn’t an offensive question and it wasn’t judgmental either.  If it had been, I would have been on him for trying to call me out on it, given his proclivity for the illegal. I shrugged as I aimed for my target.

 

“Why do you steal things?”

 

“Because I can.” He answered, quickly and unashamedly.  Of course he wouldn’t be ashamed, a man who had managed as many robberies as he had, millions of dollars in cash, gems and artwork stolen under people’s noses.  Frankly, anything he felt he needed more than the rightful owner was game for him; that wasn’t a man who was ashamed of what he did. I took my shot, breaking the balls ahead of me, each following the rules of physics and heading in their prospective directions.  I looked up again as they started to slowly come to a stop.

 

“Well then, there you go.”

 

“Oh, I’m not judging, Doc-- I like a beer with dinner but never to excess, never out of _control_.” He said and his eyes narrowed at me like he was trying to read my mind.  He seemed the type who valued control, if he valued anything at all beyond the things he stole.  

 

“At least we can agree on that.” I said, I valued control as well.  Certainly never in the sense of thievery, but definitely in the sense I didn’t like when I was out of it.  Having my head on straight was one of my few claims to fame in my world, it was something I needed when I was in the middle of an emergency surgery or sewing up criminals who were bleeding to death because they got themselves shot.  I didn’t enjoy leaving things to chance, one of many reasons I was feeling nerves with every passing minute of this, whatever it was. Everything was a chance.

 

“I hope there’s more where that came from.” He said assuredly as he took his turn and I felt my neck heat up, a mix of  being assured there was not more where that came from and the possibility that there was. I didn’t know what I preferred of the two, even though it should be obvious to me.

 

“Why?” I asked, desperately wanting to understand why after 6 months and me having complied with him in that first meeting, that he had returned.  What was going on that he had any need to find me? If his partner wasn’t dead and this wasn’t some sick shot at revenge, then why risk being around me at all?  

 

“Really, Doc, I told you.  I’m in your debt for taking care of Mick.”

 

“You’d think _Mick_ was in my debt-- since he was the one with the hole in his gut.” I muttered, it wasn’t far from the truth though.  Snart hadn’t been the one in need of my services, Mick had been and although I wasn’t hoping for a reintroduction to the bald arsonist, it didn’t make much sense to me that Snart would care enough to offer me any kind of reward for it.  He seemed the type that felt people were useful until they weren’t. I wasn’t useful now as he didn’t appear to be dying of any particular wound.

 

“I’m not in the habit of repaying debts on behalf of my partner, I’ll admit.  Mick doesn’t tend to pay his debts at all.” He said, which still didn’t answer my question and irritated me.

 

“So why now?” I pressed; even though I was sure nothing that came out of his mouth was going to be the truth.  He looked at me again from those hooded eyes and I felt that spike of something I dared not name shoot down my spine.

 

“Because I can.” He said simply and my stomach tightened in annoyance at this immovable attitude of his.  I took my turn, my aim on point for a change as a few landed in the pockets lining the table.

 

"Nice shot, Doc." He said and he regarded me like a predator does a meal again; I didn’t get to ponder on it longer as Mindy, the biker chick waitress found us with our drinks.  She set them down on the sides of the pool table were standing by, setting them on paper napkins as though that would protect the scarred wood from their moisture.

 

“One beer.” She said as she set Leonard’s drink down with clunk, the top popped for him already.  I realized it was a brand, one he hadn’t specified with his order and didn’t appear displeased with as he took a sip from it.  Clearly Mindy knew him well enough to know which kind of beer he’d prefer. “And one club soda and lime.” She said, still eyeing me as she set my drink in front of me, a small plate of cut limes joining it before turning back toward the bar and the window where our food would likely emerge from when finished.  I wondered how much spit was going to end up in mine, since I didn’t seem to be Mindy’s type and I had clearly offended with my choice in beverage. I picked up a small wedge of lime and squeezed some of the juice into the bubbly contents of my glass, dropping it after a few seconds and stabbing it violently with my straw to loosen up some of the flesh to flavor my drink.

 

“I thought surgeons had a more even hand.” He mused from across the table, my stabbing motion slowing a little as I looked back at him.

 

“We do.  We know where all the tender parts are.” I said, knowing I didn’t sound threatening in the slightest, but it’s not like I’d managed that the now two times I had met him.  Strangely enough, he got a glint in his eye that probably should have been more concerning to me than it was at the moment.

 

“I’ll have to remember that, Doc.” He said slowly in response.  Smug bastard. How did he manage to twist everything I said in annoyance into something riddled with innuendo?  I took a long drink from my glass, the cold bearing down on the roof of my mouth and threatening to give me a freeze headache if I wasn’t careful.  Not that I didn’t already have a freeze headache from the likes of ‘Captain Cold’. What a ridiculous name and one he’d taken a liking to as he’d never challenged the use of it as the media had latched on to their latest label for Central City’s villains.

 

“I have an actual name, you know.” I said, trying to move on from my latest failure in avoiding being bested by my own words.  He was unmoved as he walked toward his next shot, considering with what I could only assume was precise plan.

 

“I know.  I saw it on those scrubs of yours at the hospital.” He said, the words jetting me off into the memory of being trapped in a storage room with the two of them, Snart reaching a hand out, undeterred by my pushing his hand away to pull my scrub top out just enough to read the stitching.  I remembered feeling his knuckles brush against my collarbone, cool but not icy, firm but not vicious. I knew he could be all of those things, I hadn’t had to meet him a second time to know that, but he hadn’t been with me that night.

 

“But still you call me Doc.” I said, it was funny, to me anyway.  He acted like it was a pet name, but the way he said it belied something else.  He gave a nonplussed lift of his shoulders, as though an explanation were beneath him, but I had an idea of what his reasoning might be.  I could very well be wrong, but something in my gut told me I wasn’t.

  


“Maybe it’s because if you use my name, you’ll remember I’m a person, not a job.” I said before taking another drink, his eyes snapping to meet mine and he actually missed his shot.  If I hadn't seen it I don't know that I would have believed that Mr. Cool over there could be thrown off that easily by a comment about behavior he'd been showing since the day I'd met him, but surprises were always lurking I guess, even for Leonard Snart.  We played in relative silence now until I was down to my last opportunity to take him for that whole twenty dollars just waving at us from the edge of the pool table. I could feel him eyeing me as I did and I _almost_ asked if he was enjoying the view but caught myself, reminding my this was not a social call and I was not flirting with a criminal.  When I knocked the ball into the pocket, securing my win I turned to look at him, waiting for him to call foul, but he didn't as he grabbed the $20 and walked over to me, holding it up between two fingers ahead of me.

 

"Fair's fair." He said as I reached up to take it, fully intending on grabbing it and walking away, but he closed his fingers tightly, causing a hiccup in my plan.  I gave him a chance to let go, but he didn't leaning in a little so we were closer, my memory flashing to that moment, in the storage room when he'd come up behind me, trapping me against the table without even touching me.  This time though, I was able to look him in the eye and I did, not letting go of my winnings, not because I needed $20, but because I didn't want to seem weak. Not around him.

 

"I thought you said it had been awhile." He said, he gave me that half smile, those eyes still icy as they tried searching mine.

 

"I guess it's like riding a bike." I answered, knowing I probably wouldn't have won if I hadn't managed to cause him to hesitate earlier.  He was clearly well versed in playing pool and I could tell he was a better player than I was-- If I had believed he was a nicer man, I might have assumed he'd let me win, but if there was one thing I would never believe about Leonard Snart, it was that he'd let anyone win, much less me.

 

"You're unexpected." He said after a moment and my muscles tightened without my consent again.

 

"You don't know me that well."  I said and he gave a nod acknowledging I was right, slowly as though that was an unfortunate truth.

 

"True, might be because we don't run in the same crowds."

 

"Might be." I responded, Snart loosening his fingers so my own grip caused me to pull the money back more quickly than I'd anticipated.  It was hard for me to describe the way he looked at me as anything other than predatory, but I was more disconcerted that despite describing it that way, the way I was responding wasn't nervousness.  He was so close, the clean scent of soap and nothing else, no overpowering aftershave or cologne, just him. It was frustratingly attractive. He might have said more, might have done more, but he was interrupted by Mindy returning to our table with our food.  She set everything on the table as we came back to our seats, prolonging the interruption to ask about condiments and refills, just long enough that by the time she left, I was engrossed in putting ketchup on my plate. Since he hadn’t been responsible for making it, I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to be poisoned, but even if I was, I was just hungry enough to risk it anyway.  He took a minute to add his preferred seasonings and ketchup to his plate, me digging into my onion rings and finding I was pleasantly surprised by how good they were. It seemed this place was one of those dives that made you realize you were risking contracting E. Coli but made the world’s greatest fried foods to make up for it. Guy Fieri, eat your heart out. After a few minutes of silence, he carved off a piece of his steak, looking at me thoughtfully as he raised the piece to his mouth.

 

“All right-- _Doc--_ ” He said pointedly, it appeared he was going to fight back on every inch as well, “How about this.  We each get to ask ten questions, no holds barred, total honesty. You in or are you out?” He asked and I was surprised at how genuine the offer had been.  That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t find a way to use it all to his advantage or turn that genuineness off in a flash. He was who he was after all.

 

“Does that count as one of your ten questions?” I asked him and a smile tugged at his lips, this time it reached further than the last one.

 

“Does that?” He shot back and I found myself laughing despite myself.

 

“Ok, ok-- Blank slate… Starting now.” I said.  I didn’t totally understand why I was agreeing to this.  He hadn’t changed himself in the last six months, much less the last ten minutes to convince me he wasn’t anything but a notorious criminal mastermind and yet, here I was.  I prepared myself for personal questions, very sure he would have no problem asking me anything that might make my face burst into flame from embarrassment, but the silver lining was I could ask him anything too.  I doubted he’d be honest, but he had said repeatedly he was a man of his word, so maybe this one time, he would actually put his (and I used the term loosely) money where his mouth was. He dipped an onion ring in ketchup and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as I worked on my steak and waited for his first volley.  Finally he looked at me a look of nonchalance on his face.

 

“Why don’t we start with the basics-- Why a veterinarian?” He asked me and tilted my head, surprised he’d started there and not straight into something far more personal.  Not that my choice in careers wasn’t personal, but it wasn’t the same as say “Have you ever…”, which is what I was expecting. I swallowed my food and took a drink as a formulated my answer.

 

“Because-- I was drawn to medicine but couldn’t see myself working with people, animals are more understanding. I guess I just connected with the field of veterinary medicine better.” I picked at my steak with fork for a second as he looked at me as if to say _‘Is that all?”,_ adding after a moment of thought, “And the rush of an emergency, knowing sometimes you only have seconds to make crucial decisions, I like it, even when it’s exhausting.”

 

He seemed content with my answer and eyed me, waiting for my return shot, I shrugged it off, considering my question.  What could I possibly want to know about him? I could make a lot of assumptions and I could bet and probably win that most of them were correct.  

 

“Why Cold?” I finally asked, it was an honest enough question, it was a name making the rounds on the news, but that only happened because he carried that gun, the one that could freeze a door shut with one well placed blast, but also freeze a human being into a popsicle just as easily.  I suspected there may be more to it than that. He took a drink from the bottle of beer ahead of him before he answered me.

 

“I’ve always loved the cold.” He said simply and I felt my eyes narrow waiting for more than a single sentence.

 

“So you use a freeze ray and wear a parka in July because you like winter as a season?  That makes sense.” I quipped and that damned twitch of a smile returned to his face.

 

“First of all-- It’s a cold gun, not a freeze ray.  Common misconception…” He said as though that made any sort of difference to me, freeze ray, cold gun, who cared?  It froze things during his heists, that’s all anyone concerned themselves with. Regardless, he continued, for once I had kept my thoughts to myself.  “The cold is calculating and quiet. It’s dangerous but no one thinks it is until it’s already taken hold. It takes its time until it gets what it wants.” He said and I found myself staring at him, those icy eyes on me.  He had been describing himself under the guise of cold. Obvious really. I had intended his answer to be illuminating, I just didn’t realize it would be illuminating of me. Thankfully he had give me a reminder to be very wary of him.  

 

“I see.” Was all I managed to get out before I focused on my plate to break that look.  I was uncomfortable with how comfortable I was getting with him. The whole connection here was messy, hostage to having dinner with my captor.  More likely than not people would think I was suffering from kind of mental trauma that told me this was acceptable behavior.

 

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Doc?”

  


**Leonard**

 

She didn’t need to answer for me to know I was.  I don’t think she had relaxed since she’d first walked into her house, unaware I was present.  I wondered if she was still afraid I would hurt her, despite the fact if I had planned on it, I would have done it already.  Yes, I had dropped a few people, usually members of a crew that had betrayed me or made a job go very wrong, but in comparison to some criminals, my body count was low.  A good girl like her probably wouldn’t see it that way though, even if I did show her the statistics. Although quite a lot of me delighted in the power of suggestion leading to her discomfort, there was a small, rather irritating part of me that would much prefer she be entirely herself around me.  I had seen hints of it as she spoke to me, a sarcastic wit was hiding in there somewhere and she appeared to be very intelligent. She just wasn’t currently willing to give me more of what I was looking for. I wasn’t worried though, she’d show it to me soon enough. She cleared her throat, turning the scratched and chipped ceramic plate in front of her, like a frisbee turning in place.

 

“I’m eating dinner with a man who held me hostage at my work and then broke into my house six months later.  Uncomfortable is maybe an understatement.” She said, but she didn’t say it as though she were accusing me, she was saying it in response to herself.  Interesting. She was at odds with her with herself, which could only mean, she was, ironically, warming up to me. I kept my face cool, it was easy to do, I’d had so much practice over the years, not wanting to let anybody in on what I was thinking.  I let the thought sink in for a minute before I picked up one of the remaining onion rings on my place and gestured toward her.

 

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing it’s your turn-- Break the ice some more.” I said, her eyes hitching into a roll as soon as I’d said it.  Sometimes the ice puns were a bit over the top, but they had to be said.

 

“I believe it’s your turn.”

 

“I already asked my question, Doc.” I said and she realized I meant my question regarding her being uncomfortable.  I waved at Mindy, one of the waitresses here, signaling I wanted the check. She nodded at me from behind the bar, where one of several, long-bearded and leather wearing bikers was trying to schmooze her.  She was over in the a matter of seconds, before my dinner guest had been able to think of anything. I saw the good doctor reach into her pocket, I knew her wallet was in there with her phone and keys, but I found even though my hands kept on reaching for the bill, my insides tightened as I wondered if she was really going for that or for her line to the outside world.  If she was going to end this evening that had been fairly painless so far before it had really started. My gut relaxed when her hand was revealed, holding the small leather wallet in her fingers. Had I really been nervous? I ignored it as I pulled out the cash I had on me. I never carried anything identifying on me, if I could help it. CCPD already knew who I was, but that didn’t mean I’d hand them a photo with my name on it; make them work for it.

 

“I told you, Doc.  My treat.” I said, handing a small stack of bills to Mindy who went to pull out some change from her apron.  I held up my hand to stop her, telling her to keep the change, the blonde woman giving me a bright smile for what was probably more generous a tip than anything the loud mouths at the bar had given her and I knew at the very least it would buy me some goodwill in case they decided they were feeling like talking to CCPD any time soon.  She had a look in her eyes as the cash passed hands where she was clearly considering the moral implications of letting an accomplished thief pay for her dinner with money that was likely not mine to start with. She stuck her wallet back in her pocket warily and once all the particulars had been taken care of we slid out of the booth and headed for the door again.  The cool night air hit us with a slap as we walked outside and I wondered if it had just frozen any more opportunities for us to talk. I was pleasantly surprised when her already slow walk stopped a block or two on.

 

“Ok, but why be a thief?  You seem like a smart man, why choose to steal from others when you could make your money the old-fashioned way?” She asked me, sincerely, but like anyone else who had bothered to ask that question of me.  It puzzled me that anyone would be puzzled I would rather steal and take what I wanted, instead of chaining myself to some drab cubicle, never really leaving work when I went home for the evening. Endlessly, day in and day out, just to keep a roof over my head and barely keep the bills paid.

 

“Who said old-fashioned is the best way?” I responded and she shook her head at my slightly flippant response.  Although she was still resistant to me, I could see her judgments had been in response to recognizing I had talents but elected to use them in ways other people found reprehensible.  No doubt she did too, but she did so in an attempt to understand, not just brush me aside as the run of the mill thug.

 

“I don’t know, the thousands of years of people generally frowning upon robbing others blind.” She said and I tilted my head, face giving a pained and thoughtful expression.

 

“Do they though?  Thousands of years of empires invading and conquering, falling, rising-- humans selling and owning other humans, pillaging and plundering.  If humanity really frowned upon it from a moral standpoint, would there really have to be laws against the things I do?” I answered, naturally there were flaws in both of our arguments, but neither of us was wrong, not really anyway.

 

“Free will is a beautiful thing but that doesn’t negate consequences.” She said and I agreed with her, to an extent.  

 

“True, but I’ve yet to meet a prison that makes those consequences stick for too long.” I said with a sly smile, I knew it would set her teeth on edge to be reminded I should be in prison for basically everything I’d ever done since the age of ten.  And were I anyone else, I might actually be in one right now, leaving her unharassed.

 

“I couldn’t live like that-- Planning out how to take from someone, always looking over my shoulder.” She said and I realized I was feeling a little defensive at her words.

 

“Am I looking over my shoulder now, Doc?” I shot back and her eyes narrowed as she looked at me thoughtfully, apparently having picked up on my irritation, why her being so opposed to me was starting to rub me the wrong way.  An unintended reaction on my part, to be sure.

 

“No, I suppose you’re not.” I was surprised when I saw in her eyes that there was something else, regret maybe?  She started walking again and I lengthened my stride just enough to catch up with her.

 

“This may come a surprise, Doc-- But I don’t rob ATMs and high class museums because I need to.  Like I said, I do it because I can.” I said and she nodded as she shoved her cold hands into her jacket pockets as she walked.

 

“Oh, I believe you, Mr. Snart.  You don’t seem a desperate man. Not yet anyway.” She responded as sh looked both ways and started crossing an intersection.  What was that supposed to mean.

 

“I assume you think in the end I’ll feel like I have to attone?” I said and she let her head fall back a bit as she considered her next words.

 

“I think in the end, no matter who you are, you’ll always wonder if a different path would have been better.”

 

“Like Hitler did?” I said with snide sarcasm and she let out a snort.

 

“Oh, Hitler definitely did.  But _you_ , you’re not Hitler.  I just think there’s a rare few people who leave this world completely content; I envy them.” She said and I believed her, though part of me was having a hard time deciding if she was one of those rare people.

 

“I’m fairly content at this moment, Doc.” I said and she raised her hands in defeat.

 

“Hey it’s only an observation.” She answered me and I found myself wanting her to really understand, even if just for one moment.  I sped up and got in front of her, forcing her to stop so fast she nearly ran into me, she looked up in surprise and dare I say shock as she realized just how close she was to me.  Despite being a few inches shorter than myself, our faces were mere inches away from one another, the small clouds of warm air emanating from our mouths mixing for a moment. She was close, why was she so close?  What was I saying?

 

“Doc,” I started to say, words stilted, “You told me part of what drew you to your work is the rush that comes with an emergency; making decisions that are life or death for some sick creature… The same can be said for what I do.  The adrenaline, the rush from executing a plan perfectly-- That’s what I do it for and I’m very. _Very_. Good at it.” I said and she looked at me with that thoughtful look of hers, but I saw her shoulders give way to a shiver and the smallest flicker of something in me hoped it was because of me and not because of the chill in the air.  She was silent and I was almost shocked I’d managed to surprise her into speechlessness. She was so close though, that space between us felt like it was growing smaller and if we weren’t careful it would suck us in, like a black hole. It dawned on me, what was happening here and the ton of bricks that realization brought hit me with the full force of gravity.  I took a deep breath, letting the cold air stab into my lungs and I stepped back, pulling myself away from her.

 

“Why Rita?” I asked breaking the spell, that very powerful spell, she looked at me confused, trying to latch on to the segue I’d made from a dead stop.

 

“What?”

 

“Why the name Rita?” And her eyes cleared as it started to make sense again, she stepped back again, taking us further apart.  I knew it was for the best, I had walked into this expecting her to come to me of her own volition; to amuse _myself_. I’d had no intention of reciprocating.  That’s not how this worked. I was the one in control, not her, not anyone.  Me. She started walking again, shoulders tense and I could tell a very similar conversation was taking place in her head.

 

“Uh… I… It’s stupid.” She said and I caught up with her stride, keeping a careful distance between us.

 

“Most of life is stupid-- Give me a laugh then.” I said, trying to make myself seem like the same unaffected man I’d been before.  She sighed and rolled her eyes, looking at me as she walked.

 

“My favorite actress is Rita Hayworth.” She said, cheeks redder, more than just being touched by cold.  It was cute that of everything, _this_ confession was most embarrassing for her to admit.

 

“Ah, the classics.” I responded and her face grew more red as she looked at the ground and back to me, unsure of where to look now.

 

“Why do I feel like I’m being mocked?” She said, but she was wrong— I might have mocked someone for their entertainment choices, but this was not one of those instances. I lifted my shoulders and tilted my head back, exposing my throat to the cold as I responded.

 

“ _What_? Gilda, The Lady from Shanghai, Criminals in the Air— Classics.” I said, sincere as I’d watched at least one of those several times more than I’d admit to anyone.

 

“Naturally all movies with criminals, gamblers and heists.” She said with a sideways grin, opening up again.

 

“What can I say, I’m nothing if not committed to my craft-- in _all_ things.” I said with a slight bow, the smile never leaving her face.

  


“Sounds old-fashioned.” She quipped at me and I let myself take the bait.

 

“Old-fashioned isn’t always wrong--“ and I saw something in her eyes change, just a bit, something towards me was turning in her, I looked away for a second before I came back to her.  

 

“Though that cotton ball with legs you call a dog is _hardly_ old-fashioned.” Knowing it would rile her to hear anything against her dog.  I was not disappointed, her eyes lighting up with fire to let me in on a secret.  I admired, although I was vehemently against such a thing occurring from myself, that she could be passionate about things as paltry to some as a dog.

 

“Hey!”  She exclaimed, “I’ll have you know Bernese Mountain Dogs are some of the most loyal and smartest of the large breed dogs.  Rita has gotten me through a lot of tough crap!”

 

“I won yours over with a potato chip…” I reminded her but she was undeterred in her loyalty to her dog.

 

“She’s a sweet dog…”

 

“A potato chip.”

 

“And she takes after her mom, in a one sided love affair with carbs.”

 

“So you’re saying _you_ could be won with a potato chip?” I asked, but she shook her head no.

 

“Donuts or no deal.” She answered with a grin and I saw a dimple appear in her cheek. Obviously I hadn’t managed to make her smile enough before to see it. I had put physical distance between us before for a reason, but I could see now it would need to be more than that.  I had started this with the arrogant idea that I could manipulate her into something, for my own entertainment. The fact is I hadn’t really decided what it was I was manipulating her for, what I really wanted from this. Closer inspection was beginning to give me a sinking feeling that I was the one being manipulated. I’d managed to set myself up.  I’d have to end this now before it got further.

 

That was unfortunate.

 

“Sprinkles?”

 

“Obviously.”

 

We had been so engrossed in our talk we were both surprised to find ourselves back in front of her house.  It was irritatingly disappointing and a solid reminder to me that it was for the best. This was a plan that hadn’t gone according to-- off the rails; time to throw it out.  We were quiet again, the wall between us rebuilding as it appeared we both realized what had to happen.

 

“Well.” She said, turning to look at me, curiosity just beyond that look of relief that maybe this was it. It was irking me just how much that relief bothered me. How many times had I reminded myself growing up not to let anyone get to me. Never let them make you second guess yourself and never let them into your heart.  Never.

 

“Well.” I said, knowing this was the last time I would see her, could see her. Once she walked through her door, she was gone. I was absolutely sure it had to be done, I had to walk away. The plan was shot, kaput, dead, I had other things to focus on.  

 

So why was I grabbing her, pulling her to me and capturing her mouth with mine?


	5. The Second and Third Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gracyn and Leonard reflect on their first kiss, after all, they’ve had plenty of time to.

**Gracyn**

 

My first reaction to realizing Leonard Snart was kissing me was not what I had expected.  Naturally I thought I would land a well aimed kick to regions of a southern nature or you know, push him away.

 

But no.

 

My stupid ass barely managed to lift a finger in protest as his lips pressed against mine. I could blame it on shock and surprise, but it would be a lie. As surprised as I was, I had enough presence of mind to say no if I wanted.

 

But I didn’t.

 

Apparently this was happening and I was ok with it.

 

I thought I wanted it to be like kissing a lizard, cold and unfeeling, one last vestige of me pretending I was disgusted by him, but I didn’t, and it wasn’t. For a man who preferred to maintain an icy exterior, his kiss was anything but.  His mouth was surprisingly soft against mine, there was no hardness or force; it almost felt as though he were just as surprised as I was this was happening but he wasn’t in any hurry for it to stop. I felt his hands, bare and slightly chilled from the air that had suddenly been sucked away in this moment against my face, sliding back until his fingers delved into my hair, pulling me closer, if it were possible, given we were kissing one another as though this happened all the time.  My own hands came to rest against his sweatered chest, fingers gripping the lapels of his coat, the teeth of the zipper cutting sublimely into the tips of my fingers, a reminder that this was very real and I was willing participant.

 

I had known even before we had left my house that there was a tension between us, but I had spent a lot of the evening telling myself it was the ‘wary, I’m in the presence of a criminal’ kind; certainly not the ‘breathlessly awaiting a kiss” tension.  The internal battle I had been having with myself the second I had I agreed to go anywhere with him had found a momentary ceasefire as my mind emptied of anything except the feeling of his mouth on mine and his hands digging into my hair. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched me like this and it wasn’t even the most intimate way someone could.  To have someone pull me close, to feel strong, masculine hands brush through the tendrils of my hair, to feel his heartbeat against mine. I had acted like I didn’t miss those things for so long that now that they were here I found myself desperately wanting more. I was reacting to him so strongly, I was almost embarrassed, almost. I happily complied when he deepened his kiss, exploring me as though he had been searching for me for awhile.  I felt wanted like I hadn’t felt wanted in a very long time and it was marvelous.

 

And then-- the ceasefire was broken.

 

My neurons, temporarily overwhelmed by stupidity and hormones, began to fire again and it wasn’t just a man kissing me, masculine fingers touching me, another heart beating with mine.  It was Leonard Snart, a man who had spent most of his life overlooking the moral rules of life and taking what he wanted, regardless of their value to him or to anyone else. I knew that included me and that if I didn’t stop this now, I was going to be in far more trouble than I ever wanted to be.  I couldn’t honestly believe that Snart was doing this because there was a genuine interest in me, I was a challenge, like all those heists he pulled. I at least had the presence of mind to know I wasn’t willing to be the latest in his ever increasing list of illicit transgressions and despite feeling myself hesitate though I had come to this conclusion, I managed to pull away from him.  I felt his grip tighten on me for a moment, but he acquiesced and we parted, the cold quickly overcoming the warmth we had been sharing.

 

My hand seemed to lift of its own accord to my lips and I couldn’t tell if I was trying protect myself from him or it was some idiotic attempt to recapture his touch.  I backed away a step at a time, eyes on him as I did; I couldn’t read the look on his face and I suspected that was intentional, a man like Leonard Snart would have learned a long time ago to keep his feelings to himself, on principle.  Assuming he had any principles.

 

“I’m… I shouldn’t have done that…” I said and though it was said in his general vicinity, I was really directing it to myself, “I’m sorry.” I added, waiting for concrete to open up and swallow me whole as it hit me what I had been doing.  My struggle wasn’t that I had kissed him, as I had definitely not been the one to initiate this moment, but that I was finding myself unopposed to more even after everything I had just told myself. It was better for everyone if a clean break was made now.

 

“Why are _you_ apologizing?” He said, as though reading my mind; of course had _he_ apologized I would probably had a coronary right there on the sidewalk.  I shook my head, letting my hand drop from my face, struggling to find the words and becoming frustrated with myself that I couldn’t form complete sentences, as though his damn lips had sucked the ability right out of me.

 

“I don’t know… I-- I just, I can’t do this.” I finally managed to urk out and before he could respond I got myself up the stairs of my porch and fumbled with the lock just long enough to want to throw myself into traffic.  I didn’t look back and I didn’t stop until I was inside my house, locking the door before I let myself relax and lean against it. I had no idea why a locked door that was no better than an unlocked one to a man like Snart gave me any sense of security; strangely enough it wasn’t because I was afraid he would try anything.  However that deadbolt clicking into place was enough for me regardless. Rita bounded out of the living room having been roused by my sudden entrance, greeting me with happy kisses and her usual wide smile across her muzzle. I was relieved to see her, some sense of normalcy returning to an otherwise strange evening. Sometimes I was jealous of my giant furball.  Nothing fazed Rita, she didn’t find life at all difficult or complicated by choices and feelings or morals or literally anything I had found myself facing in the last few hours. As long as she had a warm bed, full belly and an acceptable amount of head scratches provided for her, she was satisfied.

 

If you asked me how I felt in this moment, satisfied was nowhere to be found.

 

After a minute or two of loving on Rita, shoving my face right into her thick fur, my feet decided it was time to move on and I dragged myself up the stairs to my room.  I didn’t check to see if Leonard was still there and I didn’t want to dwell on if he had been upset at my awkward exit. At this point I didn’t know what to think or want-- Or rather, I didn’t want to _know_ what I thought or wanted anyway.  I was confused and tired, two things I definitely did not enjoy being.  I made quick of my work clothes, completely forgetting about taking a shower or my usual nighttime routine, sliding into my most comfortable pajamas and hiding myself under my comforter, hoping when I woke up in the morning, I would be able to make sense of what had just happened.  I felt Rita jump up on the bed beside me, circling a few times before she finally settled down next to me, her warmth ebbing through my blankets, only encouraging sleep to overtake me.

 

**Leonard**

 

I knew the second she realized what she was doing, the good doctor tensing under my touch and before long she was gone.  The plan had definitely, without question, gone off the rails. What had started out as an attempt to alleviate my boredom from having to stay underground for the time being, had quickly become less amusing than treacherous.  This little veterinarian from Central City was very much becoming bad for my health. I had kissed her against my own better judgment, not because she wasn’t perfectly kissable, but because that’s not what I do, not unless it gets me to the vault with the cold cash I’m looking for.  Pursuing Gracyn Lence would not do any of that for me, so why I had allowed myself to go this far was still eluding me as I walked away from her house. She had left me abruptly, tripping over words that had come more easily to her only twenty minutes ago. It seemed we were both wondering what the hell we were doing. In the meantime, she hadn’t looked back at me once during her exit.

 

Unfortunate.

 

“Stop it, Leonard.” I growled at myself, shoving my hands into my pockets as I stalked back into town, “Throw away the plan…”.  I had done enough tonight to satisfy myself until Mick and I could get back to work.

 

Even if it wasn’t, it had to be.

 

I took one final look back at the doctor’s house, though if you asked me I would never admit why. If I did, I would have to let myself think back on her hands gripping my jacket as though she were holding on for dear life. Her hair, soft against my own fingertips as I held her; those lips of hers, far more worthy of stealing a kiss from than this crook was comfortable with. I would have to admit my disappointment when she pulled away from me, the look on her face surprise and confusion.  I let out another disgusted grunt and waited for the cold night to bring me back to reality.

 

Boy did I hope the Scarlet Douchebag and his cop pals moved on soon. I needed to rob a bank. And soon.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time I saw Gracyn Lence, I had gotten my wish. Mick and I had finally been able to return to our life of blissful crime. Our homecoming of being law avoiding citizens had been exactly what we’d hoped for; finding our way to the Santini crime family’s headquarters and taking out the Don was child’s play; the announcement of our arrival spreading like wildfire. My baby sister, Lisa, had joined us, the chance to work a job or two with us her demanded payment for breaking us out of police custody. In fact, it had all been going very well until seconds before the big payout of the Santini casino’s vaults, that the irritatingly moral and ever punctual Flash found his way back into my business. Again.

 

It had led to a stalemate between us. I had forced Cisco to out his friend, the Flash, or as I now knew, Barry Allen.  I had the upper hand with the threat of plastering his true identity everywhere that had an internet and satellite connection but Barry, ever the selfless hero, had promised to throw me into a jail no one would ever find me in, regardless of my promise to divulge his secret, _if_ I killed anyone.  As much as I hated to admit it, he’d been right when he’d said I didn’t need to kill people to get what I wanted.  I had always said I wasn’t opposed to a little torture and innuendo, but actually adding homicide to my repertoire?  I wasn’t as invested in-- it doesn’t pay if the banker is dead; also, it was the _easy_ way to get what I wanted and defeated the point of the rush I was always looking for with every heist.  The deal was, frustratingly, more easy to make than I had a taste for. I had kept my end of the bargain for awhile, my exploits no doubt chafing the Speedy Dogooder every time he heard about them but never drawing him out to interrupt. I had fully intended to keep my word.  At least until I didn’t.

 

It had been longer than the 6 months it had taken me to see the doctor last time.  In fact it had been _much_ longer.  That tended to happen when you were in prison.  My stay was courtesy of Barry Allen and my having killed a man.  If man was even an accurate term for scum. I was stuck in the metahuman wing at Iron Heights, despite not being a metahuman myself; likely because they knew I had the skills that would shorten my stay by years.

 

 To be honest, I was fine with a brief reprieve from the world.  I might be in here for murder, but it wasn’t one that would keep me awake at night and even if Barry Allen disagreed, I’d done Central City a favor.  Actually, I’d the done the planet a favor, without Lewis Snart it was certainly a better one.

 

You’re welcome.

 

Lewis may have provided genetic material to bring me into this world, but a father he was not.  His pathetic attempts to teach Lisa and I “lessons” had led us to our dysfunctional paths. I only liked being a criminal, pushing myself to be a master thief because my own father had been a stupid son of a bitch and was terrible one.  One item on a long laundry list of things he was terrible at, like being human, and if I was going to take after his life of crime, I was going to prove I was better at it than him. And I was-- it had taken a kid with a glorified Santa suit and superhuman speed to stop me after years of successful jobs; it had taken CCPD six minutes to capture Lewis stealing the Maximilian emerald and seal his transformation into Father from Hell.

 

He’d climbed out of his sewer after years of being in and out of prison, the chance to relieve several million dollars worth of diamonds of their imprisonment in a vault in the middle of Central City had been too much for him to ignore. Naturally, he couldn’t manage to do it on his own and he’d recruited help. The kind of help you get when you drop a thermite bomb into your own daughter’s neck, to force your son’s hand because you know he’d rather skinnydip in a river of piranhas before helping you.  One of many reasons I didn’t get tangled up in relationships was because they were messy and they were exploitable. This had been made painfully obvious by the fact Lewis had used how much I care for my baby sister to get me to help him with his idiotic plan.

 

Shooting a shard of ice into his heart was actually the nicest thing I could have done to him, considering he had died too quickly.  The years of abuse and manipulation he’d used on Lisa and I were hardly avenged in the few moments it took for him to realize I was begrudgingly allied with the Flash and I had shot him with my cold gun. As disappointing as it had been, in the end, I was struggling to feel anything more than indifference to the fact he was dead now.  So when my cell was blasted open with a giant piece of ice, I was surprised, seeing as I hadn’t planned an escape any time soon.

 

Mardon’s arrival was unplanned but I certainly didn’t turn down the opportunity to get out of the clink when it was offered.  I also really hadn’t expected this prison break to include freeing James Jesse, the Trickster; a complete lunatic, even by my standards. Where I liked the rush of robbing people of their priceless gems and cold hard cash, Jesse preferred to rob people of their lives. Brutally.

 

It became apparent very quickly that Mardon had broken us out of prison for a reason. Although he said he had done it because he owed me one, it seemed like a lifetime ago when I’d freed him from the Flash trying to ship him off to parts unknown, it was far more than repaying a debt. He wanted the Flash dead and he was hoping for help. He’d found it in Jesse, that was for sure, but I myself, was surprisingly disinterested in joining them once it was suggested. A year ago, I would have jumped at the chance to end Barry Allen and his gang of stooge nerds, but he’d saved my sister from my father’s cowardice and he’d made a fair deal with me. Somehow it didn’t sit right with me to help bring him down now.  I had bowed out from Mardon’s plan and I could have called it a night but somehow found I couldn’t.

 

“Help me stop them.” Barry said to me as I made my way to the front door of his house. I had broken in and waited for his return, finding some hot cocoa and stoking a fire in the fireplace as I waited. Unfortunately Allen had no culture and didn’t have any mini marshmallows to make it _good_ hot cocoa.

 

“Sorry, I’m not interested in being a hero.” Which was probably the most truthful thing I had said lately. I didn’t want to be a goody two-shoes like this baby faced superhero; but I was a man of my word and Barry Allen had proven to be as well. It hadn’t sat right with me what Mardon and Jesse were planning.  That in mind, I had come here, done my part to warn him and now had every intention to move on. Barry, however, was struggling to believe I could be a criminal and still have rules. He scoffed at me from across his living room, his next words impressively sardonic while still maintaining their holier than thou tone.

 

“Well, you’re doing a pretty lousy job of being a villain this week.” He said and I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or find offense. I felt my face go still as my eyes narrowed on him. I had done what I came to do and I wouldn’t be participating in the plot to end him. I owed Barry Allen nothing more than that.

 

“Merry Christmas, Barry.” I said cooly and I left he and his pretty little woman to their evening festivities.  The night was still young and it was that time of year again. Cold and dreary except for the attempts of the local population to light everything with fancy lights and decoration. I didn’t have many happy memories of Christmas, it was just another day in my world, but the city did manage a very elaborate display every year. It was just unfortunate it would be the center of Mardon and Jesse’s plan this time.  I figured I had nothing better to do so I made my way to town, see it before it all went to hell; besides there would be Christmas shoppers and where there were Christmas shoppers were bound to be things worth stealing. Call it my Christmas gift to myself.

 

I had been right that Central City would have their elaborate displays up, the whole or downtown was strung with thousands of Christmas lights, lined with Christmas trees and decorative presents on every corner it seemed. Two days before Christmas meant it was bustling with people who were on the very cusp of having procrastinated on getting their gifts too long.  I didn’t _buy_ gifts though, so I didn’t really care what day it was. I had made my way through several purses and pockets, had snagged a few high value electronics and an expensive bottle of a good vintage bourbon when I saw her.

 

She was sitting by the now empty fountain near the center of town and following her gaze, she was watching a small food cart that appeared to be selling hot beverages and an assortment of treats of the usual holiday fare.  It wasn’t long before her eyes brightened with a smile and her back straightened in response to seeing someone she knew. It didn’t take me long to find who she was looking at and I realized it was a man. He looked exactly as I would have expected, he was neat and tidy, dressed smartly in a suit tucked under a long overcoat, hair was neatly trimmed and parted in typical douchebag fashion and he carried in one hand a bag that I assumed had a snack for the two of them and drink carrier that no doubt contained cups of hot cocoa.

 

Wonder if he remembered the mini marshmallows.

 

Looking back at the doctor I could see now that she too was dressed for a special outing. I couldn’t see the entirety of her outfit but she was clearly wearing a dress that was covered by a dark blue flare coat, a long line of silver buttons shone down the front, the hood that hung down her back and the cuffs at her wrists were lined with fur.  I might have been biased but I thought it was a nice touch. Her hair was loosely braided along one side of her head and tucked in a messy bun on the other. It was a becoming and much softer style than the last few times I had seen he; that long red hair of hers always in a bun or tragically yanked back under a stretchy headband for work. I could see, even from this distance, she was wearing makeup, nothing horrifically overdone but her blue-green eyes were accentuated by a soft line of eyeliner and neutral tones swept around them.  Her lips were stained a deep red as she smiled and took the lidded cup her companion handed her. I had always thought her attractive, all those months ago, but right now, she was stunning. If only I could see her without that coat, I expected I would be floored to see what curves she had been hiding under those work scrubs of hers.

 

It was obvious she was on a date, clearly there had been a lot going on in her world while I was away and that included a much improved social life. That should have been a enough for me; the kiss we had shared all those months ago had been a one time deal, a mistake even, just as I had told myself repeatedly after she had left me standing outside her house that night.  I didn’t do attachments, had my father’s last betrayal taught me nothing? If Lisa and I had not been so close all our lives, my need to protect her from Lewis one more time would have kept me out of prison.

 

And it would have kept me from having the time to think back on that night and consider what it was that drew me to this Central City veterinarian. Even now, after having had no contact with her for almost a year, I found myself wanting her to know I was back, to see me and say something.  I wanted to see that spirit that showed in her when I pushed her buttons, I wanted to frustrate her. Likely because she frustrated me. I had only been around this temptress twice and and twice she had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me.

 

 _Until_ she had wanted me.

 

She had clung to me when I kissed her, her hands clutching at me as she let me take her mouth with mine, let me pull her to me. I knew when someone’s heart wasn’t in a kiss even if I liked to think mine was frozen solid and I knew that Gracyn Lence’s heart had been in it that night. The only reason she had walked away from me was because she couldn’t come to terms with wanting a crook.  She wasn’t alone in that, I couldn’t come to terms with wanting a woman who actually paid for things and likely felt bad for so much as speeding.

 

I stopped cold when I realized what I had just confessed. Even it was in my own head and the words had not escaped my lips to be heard by anyone living, it had still happened.

 

I wanted her.

 

I wanted a lot of things, money being foremost amongst them but the defining feature of my wants was they were all material things… Not people, not a woman, not this and the revelation that I apparently did, made me cranky.  

 

* * *

 

 

**Gracyn**

 

Downtown Central City was beautiful this time of year. I loved the light displays and decorations the city put out every Christmas, everything bright and happy even if only for a single month every year.  People were bustling through town, getting their last minute gifts, bringing their children to meet Santa and enjoy time with their loved ones. I was here on a date, something that hadn’t happened in a very long time.  I had met Matthew on an emergency surgery call at the clinic. He’d hit a dog on his way home from work and had rushed it to us. He had been completely broken up that he’d hurt the poor animal even though it was far from intentional.  He had paid for the surgery, never once blinking at the cost or what I felt needed to be done in the best interest of my furry patient.

 

He had searched for the dog’s owners while she was healing and had found out they’d abandoned her shortly before moving to a rental that didn’t allow pets. Knowing he had invested in making the dog well and she had no family to care about her once she was ready to be released, Matthew had elected to adopt her. We’d gotten to know each other over the course of the last few weeks as I had tended to the dog, his dog now, and he’d ended up being a pretty sweet guy. He’d asked me out to dinner once Maggie (the dog) was settled in at her new place of residence. We’d had a lovely dinner, taken in a performance of the Central City Ballet Company’s rendition of The Nutcracker and now we were finishing off our evening with a walk around downtown to admire the Christmas scenery.

 

It had actually been a very nice evening and Matthew had been the perfect gentleman. He was eager to get to know me, and I only wished I was exciting enough to make that eagerness worthwhile. The last almost six years of my life had been focused solely on my profession and my ridiculous hours, socializing or participating in fun hobbies were short lived topics. He at least _was_ interesting, he was a 7th grade teacher at one of Central City’s middle schools and had no shortage of endearing stories to tell me about his students. He clearly cared about each and every one of them and enjoyed his work. At the moment he was waiting in line to get us some hot chocolate from a street vendor set up within the brightly lit Christmas scenes we had been taking in. I took the opportunity to find a place to sit; I hadn’t worn heels in a very long time and now I had been in a pair of them for several hours, and now walking around town in them. They were super cute vintage heeled Mary Janes that I hadn’t been able to say no to when I saw them, but I’d barely had a chance to wear them, so now my feet were screaming at me for abusing them even more than I already did.

 

I plopped down at the edge of one of the city’s fountains, dry for winter and absently rubbed at my ankles, telling my feet to shut up already.  The chill in the air made me look forward to my impending hot chocolate. Sitting up straight, I tapped my feet against the concrete below me, trying to get the blood flowing into my feet so maybe they wouldn’t hurt so much, when I looked up from them I saw Matthew heading back to me. I felt myself smile, happily taking one of the to go beverage cups he had in a carrier from him.

 

“Thank you!” I said, happily wrapping my hands around the cup that was emitting a little heat to keep my fingers warm. He smiled widely as he sat beside me and set the carrier and a bag between us.

 

“You are very welcome.” He responded and I peered down to the bag between us.

 

“What’s that?” I asked and he opened it to show me the contents.

 

“Candied almonds.” He said pulling one out and popping it into his mouth. I smiled and took one of my own as he offered me the bag.

 

“I have not had these in forever!” I said dropping the sweet into my mouth and enjoying the burst of cinnamon and sugar it provided.

 

“Enjoying your nuts?” A voice said from behind us and my spine stiffened in response. I knew that voice. I hadn’t heard it in almost a year but I knew it, the permanently contemptuous tone, unmistakeable.  I turned to look behind me and found myself a mixture of alarm and dumbstruck. Leonard Snart stood only feet away from us and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. It had been all over the news that he had been arrested for murdering his father. Something I’d had trouble wrapping my head around as I couldn’t imagine Leonard Snart having a father to begin with. I had gone around and around with myself about having associated with him in the first place, but as the months had slipped by, the annoyance I’d had with myself got quieter, I chalked it up to a moment of weak judgment and moved on.

 

Or at least I pretended I had.

 

Leonard moved in front of us, that irritatingly smug look on his face as he did.  I didn’t think I missed that, but for some reason I felt my stomach do flip-flops when he came into view.

 

“How have you been, Doc?” He asked me and I found it difficult to say words, the shock of his appearance overwhelming.  Luckily, maybe, I was with a gentleman and one who was astute enough to see I was dumbfounded and tried to divert Leonard’s attention from me until I got myself together. He leaned forward, offering his hand.

 

“Uh— hello, I’m Matthew, I don’t believe we’ve met…” He said, friendly, though I knew friendly wasn’t exactly Leonard’s strong suit. And he didn’t disappoint, looking at Matthew as though he were a bug on a windshield as he took his hand in response.

 

“Leo—…” he started and suddenly I was spurred into action, not sure if Leonard was egotistical enough to actually tell Matthew who he was and if Matthew had watched enough of the daily news to recognize him.

 

“Leo Smith…” I blurted, standing up rather suddenly and interrupting their introduction. Leonard side eyed me at my sudden jump into the conversation, I didn’t care though because I wasn’t interested in explaining to my date that I had a connection to a felon, especially one that was supposed to be in prison.

 

“Uh, Leo issss…” I said searching for something believable as Matthew and Leonard both looked at me expectantly, “a colleague of mine.” I said, knowing that was laughable. Leonard looked like a veterinarian as much as I looked like the Queen of Sheba.  Matthew continued to play the gentleman and nodded.

 

“Ah, you work at the emergency clinic as well?  I thought I knew everyone, Maggie spent so much time there, I felt like a fixture.” He asked and Leonard shook his head.

 

“I consult here and there. I’m more of an assets man in the field.” He said, smirking at me from where he stood and I fought the urge to smack him. It was like he was _trying_ to push his luck. Then again, who was I talking to except Central City’s own notorious rule breaker.

 

“So Matthew, what are you and the good doctor doing out here on this— _cold_ evening?” He asked and Matthew was all too happy to oblige with an answer.

 

“Gracyn and I have been enjoying a night out on the town.” He said smiling at me, the look of a man I should be perfectly content with, the type of man I should be completely interested in. With the sudden reappearance of Leonard Snart, however, I was realizing I was pretty complicated on that front.  I wasn’t about to let that be obvious at this moment.

 

“Ahhh, a fun-filled evening then?” Leonard pressed and I nodded, hoping this conversation would come to an end soon.

 

“Yes— Matthew took me to the ballet…”

 

“The _ballet,_ I respect a man who can stay awake through a performance of too much spandex.” He said eyeballing Matthew.

 

“It wasn’t that bad— the spandex I mean…” Matthew responded and I was suddenly wondering if this was going to lead to something else. Something less merry than the surrounding decor would suggest.

 

“Yes, it was lovely, and now we’re having some hot chocolate and now we should be going, it was so lovely seeing you, Leo, we really should be going.” I said quickly, tugging on Matthew’s arm in an attempt to make that suggestion more evident, but Leonard wasn’t having it.

 

“Now, _now_ , Doc— I haven’t even gotten to ask what Matthew here does.” He said, ignoring my clear attempts at moving along.  Always happy to talk about his work, Matthew smiled brightly.

 

“I’m a teacher… Middle school, actually.” He responded and I could see Leonard’s eyebrow raise in deprecatory way.  It wasn’t surprising he would find Matthew’s career choice to be distasteful; being a criminal, any career choice that was legal was distasteful to him. I just hoped he wasn’t looking to cause more of a scene by disparaging his choice to his face.

 

“Shaping the minds of the future, are you?   _Commendable_.” He said in a less than commending tone. I saw Matthew’s eyes narrow a bit and I knew if I didn’t stop this now, I’d have a mess on my hands.  As cliche a move as it was, I did the only thing I could think of and dropped my hot chocolate on the ground. The hot liquid splashing over everyone’s shoes.

 

“Oh!” I said apologetically, breaking the sudden tension between the two men ahead of me. Leonard was a master of deception and saw right through my act; Matthew on the other hand, trusted me not to behave in such a manner (which made me feel worse) immediately retrieved my now empty cup from the ground, careful not to get any on his fingers.

 

“Not a problem, let me get you a fresh one— let you two catch up.” He said, obviously not disappointed to leave Leonard behind him as he did. I smiled appreciatively at him, watching his retreating back and as soon as I was sure he was out of earshot, I turned on Leonard, hissing out my next words.

 

“What the HELL are you doing here?!”


End file.
